LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

PT?7 

ii^ap. ©np^rig]^ !fti 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST; 



How AN Inexperienced Young Man 
Finds His Occupation. 



ReminisGenGes and Sketclies .of Real Life,. 



^ 






BY A TEXAS Preacher 



NASHVILLE, TENN.: 
SOUTHERN METHODIST PUBLISHING HOUSE. 

1884. 



^^v 



K*i^ 



- PUBLISHED 

IN THK INTEREST OF 

THE SOUTH-WESTERN UNIVERSITY. 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, 

BY WILLIAM ALLEN, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



PREFACE 



This volume is small, and will therefore take but an evening 
of precious time to peruse it. Let it have but a fair chance, and 
then approve or condemn, as is right. It is given to the public as 
truth, and not as fiction. Take the disguise out of it, and much of it 
could be established by living witnesses. 

The plan adopted is this: The author had been in the West from 

the time he was verging into manhood, but after a number of years 

returned to visit his mother. She requested him to give a narrative 

of his life and experience in the West. This little volume is the 

narrative as he related it to her. An understanding of this plan is 

necessary to proper appreciation. 

The Authok. 

July 12, 1883. 



TO TIE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER, 
whose virtuous training has influenced my foot- 
steps through all the changing 
fortunes of my life. 

The Author. 



ONTENTg. 



PAUE 



A Visit Back — Not the Old Homestead — The Meeting — Ques- 
tions 11 

Mother's Answer — Bequest 14 

Beginning of the Narration — Heroism of Leaving Home 17 

The Novelty in Things to an Inexperienced Boy 19 

Loneliness and its Effect — Courage 20 

Views of Mankind as a Herd 21 

Old Letters Brought to Light 22 

Letter on Kansas's Political State 23 

Remarks • 25 

Letter on Indian Life and Character 27 

Eemarks 29 

In Texas — At a Loss — Discouragements 30 

Green from the States — Want of Experienc-e 31 

My First Speculation — Land Certificates — Fraud 33 

Turned Pedagogue — Whisky 34 

The Acquaintance and History of Two Young Doctors 36 

How Innocency is Taken Out of the Human Heart 38 

A Scene on the Square Around my Court-house School-room . . 39 

About Dancing 41 

A Plan to Kegain my Ix)st Fortune 45 

How I Made Atonement for Being a Partisan 47 

Disgust — Musings — Looking to the Legal Profession 48 

Finding at Last my Proper Life Business 51 

Letters on the Ministry to my Mother 55 

Mother's Reply 57 

Reflections on a Call to the Ministry 59 

The Troubles and Emlxirrassmeuts of Starting 60 

(7) 



8 CONTENTS. 



PAGB 



My First Sermon 62 

Going to my First Conference 64 

At Conference— A Sketch 68 

In the Conference-room 71 

The Outlook Among the Brethren 72 

Reading the Appointments 73 

My Assignment — Sorrow — Incidents 74 

The Surprise of the Night 77 

My Bereaved Sister 79 

Horse Swapping 81 

How I Finally Got Mounted for the Mission Work 84 

On the Missions — My New Title 86 

My First Sermon on the Missions — Singing — "Brother Jesse" — 

Frontier Meeting-house 87 

The Evening Service and the Fruits it Bore 89 

Area of the Missions — Meeting with the Senior Preacher 92 

Character of the People 93 

Expectation Blasted — Disgust 94 

Buncombe County Illustrated — Further Comment 97 

Brother Jones Again — My Lesson from Sister Jones 101 

An Illustrative Anecdote 106 

A Portion of Country Described 107 

Coffee— How I Remedied an Evil 108 

Meeting with an Old Greek Grammar 110 

Descriptions — Master Payton Ill 

Preaching in a Frontier Dwelling-house — How the People go to 

Preaching on the Frontier 118 

Leave Hamilton's for the "West Fork of the Trinity River — 

Luck of the Night 120 

The Evil of Dancing 127 

Snuffing the War-breeze 130 

Meeting with Universalism 132 

The Recount 136 

An Old Lady who had seen Better Days 137 



CONTENTS. 9 



PAGE 



Isaiah xxviii. 20 139 

The Unlucky Night 141 

The Cyclone 144 

On an Indian Trail 148 

The Brother who was Going to Make me a Nice Present 151 

Out and In the Compass of the Gospel 155 

The Tongue — James iii. 3-8 157 

Necessity the Mother of Invention 160 

A Singular Phenomenon 163 

Mischievous Turn to Call the People Out 166 

The Strait of the Young Preacher in Administering a Keproof 169 

The Stiff Preacher 172 

How the Young Preacher got Cheated out of a Sermon 173 

Some Disadvantages 177 

The Ungoverned Family 179 

Dismissing the Missions, etc 184 

Advice of an Old Preacher— Going to Conference Again 189 

At Conference Again 191 

Beading the Appointments 193 

Thoughts— Kest— Start for the Station 195 

Observations on the Way 197 

Impressions of the Place > 199 

First Sermon in the Station 201 

Fishing and Fishers 202 

Hon. William L. Yancey 205 

Anchored in a Lake 207 

My Last Days in the Station 210 



« 



•^FIYE YEARS IN THE lEST.-<- 



A Visit Back — Not the Old Homestead — The 

MeE ting — Q UES TIONS. 

WELL, here I am after a long absence ; not, how- 
ever, among the oaks and walnuts of the old 
homestead, yet, nevertheless, in a place pleasant 
enough — even in the presence of her to whom I 
owe a debt of gratitude I shall never be able to pay. 
"Why, here in this beech-forest on Kentucky's soil, 
and on the banks of Green River, is a pleasant place; 
yet I see none of the traces of the old homestead 
outlined here. I do not see the brook in whose 
clayey bank I used to dig my springs, build my dams, 
and erect my corn-stalk flutter-mills. I do not see 
the old apple-orchard in which I passed so many 
frolicksome days, and in which the cat-bird sung for 
me at early morn, A thousand things are missing 
here, but one is present who more than compensates 
for them all. And well do I remember now that 
not for the sake of oak and walnuts, not for the old 
brook with its clayey banks, springs, and mills, not 
for the song of cat-birds at early morn, not for the 
solitudinous note of the whip-poor-will in dusky eve, 
have I returned from the far West. No ; I came with 
a mind more appreciative and an affection more dear. 
I came to see again the face of her who gave me 
birth; to press iigain those hands that did so fondly 

(11) 



12 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

caress me in the innocency of my cradle- life; to 
press tenderl}^ with true filial affection, a kiss once 
more on those lovely lips now growing thinner and 
more tremulous with age. 

Time works his changes. This is another home- 
stead, yet it has a fragrance sweet. It is a spot most 
dear and sacred. Mother, is that you standing at the 
door waiting and anxiously looking for your long 
absent son. Yes, I know you now. I saw you take 
a step. It was a limping one. I understand it, for 
I remember well, long years ago, when on returning 
from church, whither to go was your delight, a fall 
from your horse laid the foundation for that limp- 
ing gait. And you can remember how by your side 
I held you fast when mounted again, and how with 
slow pace we at last gained our cottage home. Many 
a pain went through my young heart then, while 
trudging along I looked up into your pale face and 
read your sufferings in blue, quivering lips. 

Driver, halt! Let me leave your conveyance and 
reverently afoot approach the form I see meeting 
me yonder. Mother, these caresses are not signs of 
mental weakness either in thee or myself. They are 
but miniature outcroppings of that godly nature re- 
maining yet in our race, and not left behind in 
Eden's bower when man was driven out in trans- 
gression. I see thy form now a little bent, and thy 
lace more marked by the ravages of time; thy 
voice now not so full in tone as once it was; but 
on thy brow I read more than the serenity and calm 
resignation of other years. When I balance all 
things, I cannot sa}^ that thou hast lost more 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 13 

than thou hast gained. These ravages of time 
marked on thy face are not abrupt and angular, but 
rest in beautiful curving lines. These are j;ist such 
as God loves, for even the revolving spheres under 
his appointment do make continually curving cir- 
cuits. There is a background in thy expression 
which time has never touched. It touches in me 
the same chord that keeps yet alive my youthful 
admiration. I find thee now as beautifully fair as 
when sixteen years ago I left our old hearth-stone to 
try my fortunes in the far West, and among stran- 
gers. 

But come now, tell me, have you not been think- 
ing I had forgotten you? Have you not lost pleas- 
ure and passed hours in sadness by my long absence? 
Were those others I left behind with you enough 
for your comfort? or would you in the twilight of 
the evening catch yourself looking toward the West 
thinking of me? Did you see a vacant chair around 
the old hearth-stone when in the shades of the even- 
ing the family circle was formed, and each tyro for 
himself, before taking up books and papers, narrated 
the battle of the day ? When the merry laugh went 
round, would the silence at my old chair show that 
joy could have been more complete? Did brothers 
and sisters often mention my name? Did they often 
go and get the picture I left behind, and with cher- 
ished memory talk of me? Did you ever observe 
marked attention in the younger ones when on oc- 
casion you would narrate to them some of the inci- 
dents and early battles of my life? Above all, be- 
fore I left for the West had you discovered princi- 



14 FIVE YEARS IN TIIE WEST. 

pies in me worthy to be cherished, which you could 
call on the younger ones to emulate, and for the 
sake of which your soul could rest in hope? 

Mother's Answer — Request. 

"My dear boy" — this is my old familiar style, and 
it is to-day fresh and green in my memory — "your 
questions remind me of earlier days when I was a 
young and happy mother; not that I am unhappy 
now, but different from those days, for my little 
boys were around me then. Those days, I might 
say, were my happiest. Questions then, as from you 
now, fell thick and fast from the lips of my little 
boys. Though I did my best to satisfy every inquir- 
ing mind, yet the ingenuity of sharp little wits taxed 
my understanding to a degree that I waived many 
a question through the business of the day. 

" But let me say, my dear son, you know not the 
depth of a mother's love. It is of its own kind, and 
peculiarly devoted to its object. Its existence brings 
up not only the memory of the object, but holds, as 
painted on canvas, the image of the one she fondl}^ 
•cherishes. It is but a speck of that godly nature 
acquired in her high origin, and left her yet on this 
stormy and wave-dashed beach, not alone for her 
own comfort, but to use as a means of giving the 
best character to her ofispring. To disrobe her nat- 
ure of an element so embellishing, so noble, would 
be to leave her little urchin boy-plant to be bruised 
and battered by the rough winds of sin. It would 
lay the foundation of the future man in the sloughs 
and baser elements of a sinful nature, and under- 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 15 

mine the refinement and moral bearing of society. 
It would open the flood-gates of vice, and send a 
corrupting, blighting tidal-wave of moral ruin that 
in aspect would make earth the counterpart of the 
world of woe. If the intellectual and moral eleva- 
tion of the human race is attributable to one thing 
especially above all other earthly things, it is this 
God-given heritage — a mother's love. This is the 
spring that moves her to protect her helpless oft- 
spring. Yet this is the least view of it. The grand- 
est field of its operation consists in looking into and 
providing for the proper manhood life of the little 
boy at her knee. Hence, if she is properly educated, 
or if her thoughts run in the proper channel, she 
studies and untiringly labors to build in him a foun- 
dation of integrity and true morality. 

"A mother's love is not abated by space or the 
lapse of time. The instinctive races, or lower ani- 
mals, that have minds which cater to mere animal 
wants— that are incapable of rising above appetite 
and selfishness, that lack a moral crown, the requi- 
site of an accountable being — may and do forget 
their offspring after they are weaned away; but a 
mother's love for her darling boy burns with a glow 
of unabated interest through life. It is one of those 
attributes of her spiritual nature which can never 
die. 

"Again, I have had many occasions of observing 
a kindred element in the breasts of sisters and broth- 
ers you left behind with me. Often in my own 
young days I have felt the affection that naturally 
exists between brothers and sister; but I have 



16 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

learned more of this principle from observation than 
from personal experience. I have often observed 
on wintry night, when the winds howled wildly 
round, yet all whom you left behind comfortably 
encircling the old hearth-stone — lulled to silence by 
their own meditations, apparently thinking of the 
burning wood or the glowing coal — there would 
be a thought reaching far beyond this scene; for 
just on such an occasion some one would ask of 
the brother now gone to the West. Then would 
come up anew the incidents of his life. No; your 
name, my dear boy, was not forgotten by the fond 
ones left behind. It was cherished by brothers and 
sisters, and fondly remembered by a loving mother. 
The books you loved most were handled and talked 
of; the anecdotes you used to tell and tales you nar- 
rated were repeated. 

*' We cherished no thought that you had forgotten 
us and home. We felt that the sacredness of the 
spot was too dear, and the tie of kindred too strong, 
to indulge such an illusion. Home, home — we felt 
there was no place like home. Your letters breathed 
this spirit. We felt that we could more easily for- 
get you than that you could forget us; yet we knew 
we could not forget you. 

"But, come now, son, tell me something of the 
struggle you had in parting with us and in saying 
farewell. Tell me of the times you have had in the 
West. Surely now, by this time — a life varied as 
yours has been — you have made a little sketch of 
history to which I can listen with much interest. 
You have written us some things, yet there appears 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 17 

to be about you a novelty that makes us anxious to 
hear." 

Beginning of the Narration — Heroism of 
Leaving Home. 

"Mother, I fear to answer your questions will 
prove to you a fatiguing task, and tax your patience. 
If I should tell it all, the sun would sink to rest more 
than once before my voice would be hushed in rest, 
having found an end to my thoughts on life's battle 
and what it is. I shall only take up those parts 
which I think will interest you most, and on w^hich 
you can exercise patience. At your request I will 
begin ; nevertheless, if you grow w^eary before I have 
reached the end, I pray you give me a token, and I 
will postpone my train of thought till another day. 
You are growing old now, and should have your 
proper rest; 3'et I remember when I was 3^oung in 
years, and had not yet engaged in life's big battle, 
you oft entertained us of evenings until the hour 
was late, and yet we never wearied as long as we 
could hear you talk. And while I hear you say 
those were among your happiest days, I say they 
would have been happy days indeed for me were 
it not for that delusive fancy in a boy that looks for 
true happiness only in the bearded man. This de- 
lusion, I suppose, will continue to exist, since the 
art which will take this conceit out of a boy, if ever 
known, is lost. 

" The heroism of my life appears to me to be more 
striking now than during the changing events o/ 
its history. How I found courage to leave the fam- 
2 



18 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

ily, and especially a mother whom I cherished in 
memory with the fondest affection, when my natnre 
seemed to revolt at the idea, is a problem not easily 
solved. I do not mean how some other boy merg- 
ing into manhood conld leave home; for, doubt- 
less, many a boy lives whose home environments 
would bring relief when broken ; but, knowing my 
own experience, wdien it choked my utterance, and 
seemed to break the currents of my flowing blood — 
when it seemed to be a revolution unnatural, tear- 
ing as it were flesh from flesh and heart from heart — 
I repeat, I have ever looked on it since as a prob- 
lem in m}^ own mind. But having obtained my own 
consent to go, leave home with all its fond endear- 
ments, and seek my fortune of life in the West, I 
resolved to fight the battle through. It was the first 
hard battle of my life. It was a struggle I have 
never desired to repeat. To this da}^, it gives me 
no pleasure to think of it; yet it is a part, even 
the beginning, of my independent history, and I 
have repeated the story of it to you because it comes 
first in this narration, and is therefore in order here. 
If I should recount all the battles of my life, and 
count out one that used me worst, this is the one I 
would select. It is not that my life has been with- 
out other battles, but it is by comparison to show 
the magnitude of this. You know how I gave the 
parting hand, though you never knew the struggle 
in my heart, and had it not been I am a son of thine 
I could never have displayed such moral heroism." 



FIVE YEARS IN THE AVEST. 19 

The Novelty in Things to an Inexpebienced Boy. 

"But the scene of bidding adieu to loved ones, 
and leaving home, sweet home, became a thing of 
the past, as all things do, and I got fairly on my way. 
The gap between home and myself got wider and 
wider as the days passed by. Many things new to 
me now appeared, and my young mind feasted on 
these. !Every thing had a freshness and novelty to 
me, whose experience had never reached but a few 
miles beyond the borders of home-life. The novelty 
of the things I saw, all new to me — the rivers, steam- 
boats, railroads, cities with their din and business 
bustle, natural scenery, the beautiful and the sub- 
lime — gave me pleasure indescribable, and in some 
degree abated my thoughts of home, sweet home, 
and the loved ones there. In gradual turn, as I 
suppose, my face now began to grow bright again. 
While I indulged in thoughts of home with raptur- 
ous joy, I found that pleasures may arise from other 
sources than from home, sweet home. More than a 
thousand miles now had I traversed in saddle. The 
grand expanse of the West began to open on my 
vision. The world to me began to look larger. My 
vision was no longer checked as on Kentucky's soil, 
where the trees grow thick and tall, and where the 
hills are both short and steep ; but sweeping over high- 
rolling prairies with their long slopes, vision here is 
only brought to an end by the distant blue, dusky hue 
of sunset. Yet I thought if you could see only one 
sunset in the wilds of the West, it would be to you 
a charming vision. 

"But expatisive views and natural scenery are not 



20 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

all that attracted my young mind then. The prairie 
abounds with inhabitants peculiarly its own; the 
deer and antelope in herds by scores; wild horses 
in herds here and there; buffalo in large herds spot 
the prairie dark like islands on the sea, or grazing 
in long dark lines, destroy the monotony of vision; 
the long-eared hare or buck-rabbit, or as the boys 
call it mule-ear, whose fleetness, when in health, is 
yet unknown; the stinging scorpion with verte- 
brated tail, whose favorite resort is under old rails 
and rocks, and whose most cultivated business is to 
w^arn you of his presence with most unpleasant sen- 
sations when you put your fingers just far enough 
under to turn the rail or raise the rock; the prairie 
dog whose chief companions are owls and rattle- 
snakes — with them is great concord, although the 
young marmot is a dainty morsel to either. And yet 
again, there are to be found the horned frog, which 
is rather a misnomer for lizard, as is plainly indi- 
cated both by its form and mode of traveling; the 
tarantula, or big spider, usually of slow, clumsy mo- 
tion, which carries its fangs carefully folded under- 
neath its body, and which are a quarter of an inch 
long; the centipede, that repulsive, crusty-looking 
creature, rightly named as far as the word goes, 
with every foot like a poisonous fang — a reptile that 
loves droughty w^eather and cracks in the ground." 



Loneliness and its Effect — Courage. 
''But I must tell you that on many a night I felt 
the deep stillness of the solitude creep over me. 
Oppressing gloom would sometimes shadow me 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 21 

around, so that I could not suppress the rising spirit 
of deep loneliness. Often then would I wish for 
sleep, for a night's rest always made me feel better. 
The solitude of the night, however, when among 
strangers, brought me no alarm; it only haunted 
me with the thought that this is not home. There 
was no sound of brother, no voice of a sister, no 
consoling presence of mother. The landscapes, for- 
ests, and wide, wide prairies, mapped on my vision, 
were all different to the old homestead and the 
scenery around. I love solitude sometimes, especi- 
ally when the circumstances of my life give me only 
a short ramble through its gloom. 

*'If I had indulged the thought, when weighed 
down by feelings of loneliness, that on the morrow I 
will direct my steed toward the East, I will give up 
other views of the West, I will seek my fortune of 
life around the old homestead, where I love its or- 
chard, meadows, and the shades of its locust-trees, 
then rest would have come uninvited, and sleep 
would have been balmy and refreshing. But this I 
could not do. I was full of a genuinely proud spirit. 
This is a heritage you gave me. I was not born a 
coward. I could not entertain a thought of abusing 
my noble heritage. I was, as I realized, out in the 
heat of life's battle, and I determined to play a part 
becoming a true soldier." .. 



Views of Mankind as a Herd. 
"The world, I found, was not as cold, selfish, and 
taciturn as I had suspected. Among men may be 
found the counterpart of the serpent, dog, hog, wolf, 



22 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

fox, or bear. Bat these are exceptions to the gen- 
eral rule. They may in the main be avoided. Not- 
withstanding the complete ruin of the human heart 
b}^ original transgression, the impressive force of 
Christianity, both in the direct operation of the 
Spirit on man's nature and in forming the manners 
of society, the herd of mankind have much of kind- 
ness and sympath}'. These, however, do not stand 
out prominently to the view. They exist in a la- 
tent state, but are excited into action on all "proper 
occasions. The judgment of the world is that the 
traveler should be a gentleman. When he satisfies 
this judgment, he never wants for friends. There is 
a class of men whose hands are against every other 
man. All other men, as well as the traveler, are in 
danger from these. They are the wolf -fiends and 
prowling Bedouins — the curses to society, who with 
dark hearts, ruined moral natures, laboring under 
false ideas, set up the claim that the world owes 
them a living without work; and all this contrary 
to the revealed decree that man shall ' eat his bread 
in the sweat of his face.' " 



Old Letters Brought to Light. 
"If I remember rightly, I wrote you some letters 
on Kansas troubles, and then again some on Indian 
life and manners. Have the}^ been given to the 
waste-basket? or are they now on file somewhere? 
Not that they have merit or deserve immortality, do 
I ask; but by interluding a letter or two, lying as 
they do in the track of my narrative, it will, if they 
are read by some one else, give me a respite, after 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 23 

which I promise you I will try and be more enter- 
taining. I used to keep my budget of compositions, 
my early literary triumphs, deep down in the old 
historic clock, which used to stand from floor to 
floor — a length prodigious in comparison with clocks 
now. But I do not see liiat long-time machine 
around anywhere. When I left, that budget was 
laid away carefully there. At some future time I 
may ask of that budget and of that clock, which 
was the great curiosity of my early boyhood. 

**Yes, here is a budget of letters you have care- 
fully kept. They contain incidents of my travels 
with my young attempts to philosophize on men 
and things. Thanks to you, brother Fielding, for 
looking them up. Why, they look a little musty 
now! It is the way they show their age. Every 
thing has its own way of telling how it has left the 
years behind. I observe when looking in a glass 
that time has marked the lines he intends to plow 
in my own face. Every year he intends to run the 
same lines, and every time he plows leave the fur- 
rows more distinctly marked. Why, these pages 
are sixteen years old! Then, time has plowed them 
sixteen times. This is enough to give them that 
dusky look they bear. But let us hear some of them 
read. Brother Fielding wdll please perform the 
pleasant task: 

Leavenavorth, Kansas, November, '50. 
My Dear Mother and Loved Ones at Home: I am here at an exciting 
season, and in the midst of an excited people. Kansas is not a pleas- 
ant country ; not even to the politically unconcerned. Every resident 
here is compelled to be a partisan. To be neutral is the worst course 
a citizen can take. He is then absolutely out of respect, and subject to 



24 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

the abuse of both free-soilers and pro-slavery men. He must be some- 
thing ; for if manhood is in him, he evidently is something, and his sur- 
roundings compel him to let it out. It is sad to think of the political 
stew in this territory. I verily believe the spirit of party has gone 
fanatically wild out here. I regard that as the disease, and not an 
honest, virtuous concern for the negro. It is this that will yet ruin 
the nation. 

A man is happy out here prospectively. All depends on the re- 
sult of elections. There is but little honesty in these. The furor 
raging here indulges any thing that will secure success. The great- 
est man is he who is successful without counting modes. In the equal 
division of the parties, I shall count those the biggest rogues who 
carry it as a State. 

There is a sort of intuitive knowledge here of a man's politics. 
A man here is seldom asked for his politics, but is conversed with as 
though he is perfectly understood on these points. They locate the State 
of a man by his dress mainly, and in this they seldom make mistakes. 
When once the State of an immigrant or a traveler is located, he 
is approached as a Southern or Northern man in his political philos- 
ophy according to the political nature of the State from which he 
came. True, some of the States are considerably divided in political 
creed, yet the nature of immigration to this territory is of a kind 
that has very seldom brought Nortliern ideas from Southern States 
or Southern ideas from Northern States. I pass here as a Kentuck- 
ian; yet no one asks me, and yet again everybody regards me of 
pro-slavery principle. This all comes of the mixed suit you pre- 
pared me, and which I find pleasure in wearing out here. In poli- 
tics they go here by States. That is the rule. There are a few ex- 
ceptions. But woe to the poor fellow who stands an exception to the 
rule I It would have been better for him if he had never come out 
here. He is poor and friendless, and regarded as a traitor by one 
party, and lacks the confidence of the other. 

This territory, so far as I have seen, has a beautiful face. In its 
physical aspect it is as beautiful as one should desire. It has a prob- 
able future of wonderful growth in wealth and population. But it 
has a present imbittered by strife, and a population divided and full 
of treachery toward each other. I shall not remain here many days. 
Every thing seems to be on a war footing. Every day brings a his- 
tory of revenge, burning, bloodslied, and suffering. The luite that 
Inrks in many hearts here makes tliis a very unsafe country. Thoy 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 25 

do many things here under the rule of lex talionis, which you know 
is both rude and uncivilized. Here in miniature form is playing 
that which is inevitably coming on us as a nation, unless the ques- 
tion of slavery is solidly settled. Would to God the authorities of 
the nation could see the rising storm, and drive back its force before 
it bursts with dread and maddening fury through all the States, and 
to the sorrow of many a heart. 

Your affectionate son, 

EEMAEKS. 

" This is a picture of Kansas's political state as it 
existed then, described as well as I could tell it 
now. While traveling there, the debris of many a 
house I saw, such as the fire would leave — many a 
family homeless and destitute. Here the battle be- 
tween the States began; for nearly all the States 
were represented in the contest that went on here. 
It was only an armistice from this tinae till '61. It 
was a smoldering, suppressed calm, awaiting the 
storm - clouds to gather more furiously, and the 
thunder-heads of war to grow large, that when 
they burst every dog of war might howl in echo 
until the drapery of sorrow about every hearth- 
stone should show the nation's gloom. The storm 
came, and blew in hate, blood, and murder till all 
fools satisfied their thirst — till it was thought better 
to be governed by reason than by passion. 

"But let us walk lightly among these dark shadows 
of the past. I hardly need mention the cold, mali- 
cious murder of Uncle John — that afiable Christian 
gentleman, your own brother — by the hands of those 
who should have been his friends; nor my nephew, 
and others who fell on Shiloh's field; nor another, 
who was dearer both to you and me. No, I need 



26 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

not mention these; for I see the war-wind bearing 
on you now in these clays when your burden should 
be light. Once you owned servants whom you used 
kindly; I see none around you now. They are 
gone with the freedom they acquired through the 
strife. For these you received no compensation to 
enable you to procure the necessary help you need 
now in the decrepitude of age. That property you 
acquired through the sweat of your face, honestly, 
and under the protected law of the government. It 
is too much the fashion of governments to claim ex- 
emptions through war measures. This, however, 
cannot strengthen them; for such a policy as was 
adopted toward the South, instead of cementing the 
people as a whole, tended rather to alienate their af- 
fection. 

"A lost caus*e often carries down wnth it many just 
claims which ought to have been respected. How 
the nation shall atone for many of its deeds, and 
when the atonement shall be made, are questions 
locked up in the mysterious future, and known only 
unto God. x^tonements are sometimes made in the 
moral government of God when the primal causes 
that produced them have gone out of the memory 
of man. Small seeds, working through generations, 
after awhile often bring wonderful developments, 
operating as they do powerfully upon the reason of 
man. 

"But let these sad memories go to oblivion. Let 
us train our minds to look on the sunny side of 
things, for there is where our pleasure lies. Let us 
commit these thincrs to the all-wise Kuler of the uni- 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 27 

verse, who can bring good ont of evil, and who, when 
let alone, doeth all things well. 

*^I fear, dear mother, my digression has not been 
as interesting as my narrative; yet it seemed natu- 
rally to grow out of the letter which has just been 
read. But here is another letter, on another sub- 
ject, with sentiment as pure as my young percep- 
tion could make it: 

CuLBERT Ferry, Ked River, Texas Line, December, '56. 

Dear Mother and Loved Ones at Home: I am now at the entrance 
to Texas. I have seen much more, which remains yet untold, than 
I can write you in one letter. I think I could now, if present with 
you, enliven the old family circle until a late hour with the stories 
and reminiscences of my travels. I will tell you in this only about 
the Indians. I am now leaving their territory, though I am not 
weary. I would like to remain awhile yet with them, the better to 
learn their manners. Let me see, I liave now been through the Del- 
awares, Shawnees, Pottawattamies, Senecas, Cherokees, Creeks, Chick- 
asaws, and Choctaws. What a list of names, some of you think; yet 
these are only a few of the many when we come to a general sum- 
ming up of all the tribes. I believe these, however, are the most 
cultivated of all the American Indians; yet their civilization is very 
small in comparison with the opportunities they have had. To evolve 
a genuine type of the civilian out of the red man will require a long 
period of time. The problem has to be added, subtracted, multiplied, 
and divided through several generations. 

They are constitutionally opposed to civilization. They embrace 
the philosophy, in its most emphatic sense, that tlie spontaneity of 
the earth answers every end of substance and happiness. They have 
no inclination to fell forests or till the soil ; to bridge rivers, build 
cities, and other industries. Tliey think these torment the brain and 
torture the body unnecessarily, and therefore tend to destroy that 
spontaneity which gives ease and comfort. 

I have no doubt that the advantages and treachery of the whites 
impeded their progress in civilization by destroying their confidence. 
If every man who treated with or administered to the Indians had been 
a Penn or an Eliot, they would have had more confidence in the white 



28 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

race. Their progress in civilization and religion would consequently 
have been more rapid. As it is, their competition "svith the white race 
will ultimate in little else than extinction. 

I think the history they have made is worth preserving. If some 
one would dwell with these forest tribes awhile, and gather up their 
unwritten history as they hold it in tradition, I think it would make 
an exceedingly entertaining book. Their virtues have never been 
written. United States history is prejudiced against them. Tliey 
are known to be a treacherous people, it is true; but when they tell 
their own history the white race have nothing praiseworthy or that 
merits a boast in the comparison. 

It is strange to relate, yet some of these people have become wealthy 
— only just a few. They own slaves just the same as the whites. Some 
few, after so long a time, have opened farms, give considerable atten- 
tion to agriculture, and consequently have plenty around them. But 
as a rule they have the same rudeness in dress, and live by hunting 
and fishing, as when America was first discovered. 

Reticence is a marked feature in their character. They have been 
careless about learning English. I found a few wlio were pretty well 
educated, having attended our colleges. These are free to converse; 
yet even they take no pleasure in dwelling on the history of the 
tribes. On this subject they have little to say to the stranger. You 
may learn more of their history from the orations of Eed Jacket, 
Logan, and Osceola than as a stranger holding converse. Their ret- 
icence on the subject of their history, however, abates as the new- 
ness of the stranger grows old. 

Travelers are sometimes at a loss to find their way when travel- 
ing among these tribes for want of some English-speaking one. 
Should their eyes, however, fall on one of those sable sons of Africa, 
tliey need never fear. They can all speak English, and love it with 
a relish. They are a most accommodating people toward the trav- 
eler, and in affability try to show themselves superior to their red 
masters. They do not appear to be unhappy. Some of them told 
me of the life they once lived among the whites. Some came with 
their white masters, who concluded to live with the Indians; some 
were bought. They are all kindly treated. 

The native religion of these tribes, if they have any, is hard to 
find. They have a notion of a Great Spirit, at the head of both the 
physical and moral universe, wlio will see that ample provision is 
made in the future for all gomi Indians. They seem to lose sight of 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 29 

bad Indians at death, and do not indulge in any dreamy speculations 
about their fate. They seem to forget such. They say nothing about 
them. 

Their code of morals and civil jurisprudence is that Indians should 
do right — love their friends, hate their enemies, cherish friendly deeds, 
and revenge 'wrongs. Outside of missionary operations, they have 
no public demonstrations in religion, no religious harangues, and of 
course no prayers, no churches. They give their consent to the Great 
Spirit. Their good actions all come out of this consent through the 
monitor within them. They live and die in faith, without doubting. 
When I come to Kentucky I will give you some sketches of personal 
experience with these red men. 

Your affectionate son, _ 

REMAEKS. 
" I am truly glad these letters have been preserved. 
These sketches of the subjects to which they per- 
tain speak my present convictions. They seem not 
to have been written with the excitement through 
the novelty of things that sometimes gives color to 
the truth. Now, by your cheery looks you seem 
not to have grown weary, though I feared the read- 
ing would tax your patience, since these letters I 
have found here on tile long since have been en- 
joyed by you and carefully stored away. I am glad 
you enjoyed the reading so much. I reckon it is 
because your long absent son has returned; or, if 
not, because they date a period of time near when 
your little boys were around your knee, could prat- 
tle, caper round in yard and orchard, which you say 
were among your most joyful days. And now me- 
thinks for these and other reasons you ibund a lei- 
sure hour to now and then read these and other let- 
ters I wrote you when far away. Then I am glad 
I wrote them, for it makes me- happy to know you 



30 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

found pleasure in them. But now I will unwind 
my ball, or pick up my thread — not, however, like 
Theseus, the athlete, to enter a labyrinth, slay a 
dreaded beast, and by my thread find egress again. 
No, I have done no marvelous deed like that. Yet 
I trust I have spun a thread of life that will at least 
bring no pang to my heart nor yours while I follow 
the thread and put life under review again.'' 



In Texas — At a Loss — Discouragements. 

I found myself at last on Texas soil. 'Not in the 
pine-wood district of the eastern portion, but in the 
expansive prairie region, flivorable for large views, 
not only of the eye, but also of the mind. Here I 
felt that I was more out on an ocean sailing than at any 
period since I left "home, sweet home." I resolved 
to make Texas the State of my adoption. I might 
have remained in Kansas but for the political agita- 
tion in that territory, and, as I regarded, uncertainty 
in all things. What to do I knew not, yet do some- 
thing I must. I felt in me all the awkwardness 
of an inexperienced young man thrust out among 
strangers to learn a business or profession. Many 
a boy in the West, when all alone, right here has 
stumbled in the deliriousness of his own meditations. 
Many a man with his family around him, under sim- 
ilar circumstances has suffered such confusion that 
he retraced his steps, broken in fortune, to be among 
the same hills and beside the same brook he left 
awhile before. 

Such is life — the stream ebbs and flows, fortunes 
are sought and made; yet men go down the hill jolt- 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 31 



ing and thumping, unable to check their course, 
wondering at every rock and acclivity why they 
started and whither they are going, until want 
echoes round that they have reached the broad 
plain from wdiich all beginnings start. 

Green from the States — Want of Experience. 
I realized the fact that was more than once sounded 
in my ears — ^that I was '^ green from the States J' Every- 
body seemed to know more than I did — even the cow- 
boys, whose ambition did not reach higher than a pair 
of bell spurs, Mexican hat, pitching pony, and a lariat. 
In conversation I did not use much of their rancho 
idiom; and my language, though in plain English 
and of grammatical structure, was a speech so tangled 
and misunderstood b}^ them that it often elicited a 
look from them that struck the veritable "green- 
ness" in me of which I was so unmercifully accused. 
In those days if any one, soberly raised at home and 
inexperienced, could withstand the batteries of 
humor in the West with unblenched look, he was 
certainly a marvel to the people there. They 
would call him "green from the States,^' and if 
he was not satisfied they would prove it to him. 
They would have him holding a sack for snipes, 
roasting the bone of a wild turkey's leg for the 
dainty marrow it contains, believing the distant 
crowing of prairie chickens to be the cry of mourn- 
ers for their dead, or in some way or by some strat- 
egy have him going through the most dreaded or- 
deal of a green, inexperienced boy from the States 
— mounted on and exercised by a flank-girded pitch- 



32 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

ing pony that never knows when to stop till the girt 
breaks, w^hich you may rely on never happens if 
they have the fixing of it. 

ISTothing can compensate for the inexperience of 
a young man seeking his fortune in the West. He 
should know how much confidence to place in his 
fellow-kind — some place too much, some not enough. 
The error of losing confidence in all, because of the 
treachery of a few, is a bad philosophy to adopt 
in life's course. I know nothing more unbecom- 
ing, that sets a man more ofi:' to himself, than to be 
soured with everybody. There are good, honest 
people in the world, and they are to be found every- 
where. 

Launched out and inexperienced as I was, it was 
my fault to believe too much that fell from the lips 
of every one. The people all appeared honest to 
me in the country I left. I regarded them only as 
types of mankind generally. There were men whom 
I should have believed in all things. They were my 
friends, as they w^ere of every stranger-boy whom 
they met. There were others who were outwardly 
equally as clever, as kind as any; but there was a 
background in their nature, ugly and dark, hidden 
from the view of my inexperienced eye. 

How to believe, how to estimate, how to solve the 
problem among these, has often been the task of the 
inexperienced stranger-boy. He is certain to find 
conclusions, but in these he is often wrong. In this 
event he is always sure to " pay dear for his whistle." 
It is then only a matter of time as to when he will 
be fleeced, for fleecing is verily the profession of 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 33 

some men. The wool falls from only a few sheep 
before shearing-time. 

I would repeat that a boy setting out to find his 
fortune among strangers needs proper experience 
and education above every other commodity. I 
believe, however, that scholars are all apt in this 
and rapidly advance. No lesson need be repeated, 
yet a young man may be financially ruined by a 
single stroke. His eyes in that event are sure to 
expand, the pupils will take in more light. In all 
his future action he sees better what he is doing. 
He knows more of man. His mind now being given 
more to meditation, he acquires more solidity of step. 
If never before, he begins now to put away childish 
life.' 

My First Speculation — Land Certificates — 
Fraud. 

There seems to be a negative end to every thing. 
All society has its cheats. All new countries have 
their sharpers. There is a class of men to be found 
almost everywhere whose trade is to live by swin- 
dling — a kind of remorseless, soulless class of beings, 
without moral inclination, and the negative ends of 
all that is worthy and virtuous in society. The field 
open for these in the earlier days in Texas was to 
run a trade in land certificates. The government of 
Texas issued these and sold them. They were gen- 
uine; but perhaps nothing was ever more easily 
counterfeited. 

I resolved to find my fortune by becoming the 
proprietor of Texas lands. I located as much land 
3 



34 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

as I was able to buy certificates for — engaged in bus- 
iness, made more money, and located more lands. 
Just as I thought my foundation was broad and 
good, a leaf turned in my history, and I saw plainly 
that my land speculations were a sad failure. Every 
certificate was conceived in fraud and "brought 
forth in iniquity." All that little sum of three or 
four hundred dollars I carried with me to Texas, 
together with nearlj^ a year's earnings, in one revers- 
ing whirl "went under." It appears like a small 
atfair now, but it was a large one to me then. 

I found myself on the broad plain from which all 
beginnings start. I felt for a little while that the 
battering-rams of men and nature were against me. 
I thought of home, sweet home, and the loved ones 
there. I felt in no mood to return there, though the 
storm-wind of life was pelting me sore, and full in 
front. I resolved to breast the storm and yet ride 
on the tide. This is the thought that laid in me the 
foundation for a successful life, though I knew it 
not. I had yet remaining in me all the innocency 
of heart which I had when I left home, sweet home. 
What is money, thought I, lands, in comparison with 
conscious innocence? I had been swindled, it is true, 
yet 1 had wronged no one. I had lost money, which 
is a perishable thing, but I had preserved my integ- 
rity. 

Turned Fed a gog ue— Whisky. 
Necessity is called the mother of invention. Of 
course my necessity pressed me into something, and 
there was no time to be lost. I had now been in the 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 35 

school of experience for a year, had graduated into a 
much better knowledge of the true character of my 
fellow-man, but, in order to gain this accomplish- 
ment, likewise into poverty. In casting around for 
business I resolved to turn teacher, and see, while I 
improved my linances, what I could do for the in- 
tellectual and moral improvement of Texas. I soon 
found mj^self pleasantly enough engaged, consider- 
ing the times, in a new, growing, and beautiful tow^n 
not many miles from Red River. 

Teaching school in Texas in those days required 
much force of wdll on the part of the teacher. I 
occupied the court-house, which was in the middle 
of the square, and which w^as a building of only one 
room — a wood building, unceiled, weather-boarded 
with common clapboards, and wood shutters hung 
on hinges for windows; a house ungainly and un- 
comfortable enough, yet the only one in the young 
city unoccupied. It was "beautiful of situation," 
in the center of the square, the joy of the whole 
town. Every day in the week there was much noise 
on every side of the square in the way of driving, 
whooping, and swearing, but much more on some 
days than on others. The great body of the people 
were clever and civil, but the few rude ones, because 
the laws in those days were not strictly enforced, pre- 
sented things in the aspect of general uncivilization. 

In those days whisky was sold by the quart as 
its least legal dimension, unless by special license. 
Many a man in Texas then did not feel, as thu 
shades of the evening gathered round, that he had 
shouldered the responsibilities of the day as a pio- 



36 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

neer should unless between suns he — to use his own 
phraseology — had "belted a legal measure." They 
had a sort of law or custom in their ring that every 
man must treat. The result was every man of their 
ring at night-fall carried a quart — at least, as many 
of them as were able to carry themselves. 

It was always a sad picture to me, to see the 
townsmen in the shades of approaching night gath- 
ering up the debris of men slain under the pressure 
of a "legal measure." On many an evening I have 
looked out of the windows of my court-house school- 
room and have seen half a dozen or more of these 
men, even careless of heat of sun on a summer's 
day, sitting on old goods-boxes or other relics, look- 
ing down on the "legal quart" of hell placed in the 
center of their ring; and now again lifting it to 
their lips and quaffing down the venomous liquid 
that drives morality and every ennobling virtue 
from the heart. Again, such hellish words as es- 
caped their lips! It was enough to chill the blood 
and astound the senses of every sober-minded ^^outh. 
I am glad, dear mother, for the pains you took with 
me, and for the impressive moral lessons you gave 
me in the formative state of my mind and heart. 
For these, which have always guarded me in evil 
hour, I pray you accept my deep-felt gratitude and 
thanks. 

The Acquaintance and History of Two Young 
Doctors. 

Here I made the acquaintance of two young men 
from Tennessee. Noble men they were, of good cult- 
ure, and of course of good families. They were doc- 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 37 

tors by profession. Our hearts seemed to be tuned 
in unison. iTever in the West did I feel happier in 
acquaintanceship. Often, when I had finished my 
daily task in the school-room, we three naturally 
met as brother loves brother, and took an evening 
stroll down a beautiful plateau southward from town. 
On these occasions we deplored the ruin of many a 
young man in the West, l^one of us thought then 
that we would ever tipple. No, we each felt too 
much innocency of heart; we remembered too well 
the moral lessons of our youth; w^e had too much 
love for those we left behind; we had too much re- 
spect for our own manhood. 

But alas poor feeble man ! how little he knows 
of his nature! how little he realizes the life before 
him! Shall I tell it to you? Yes, I know you 
want to hear it. I will turn this leaf to view, 
though it pains my heart to look on the sad picture. 

One evening young Elliott accompanied me alone 
down the plateau, our favorite walking-ground He 
appeared unusually reticent. At last, half mourn- 
fully, he said, "Do you know where Scott is?" 1 
answered, "ITo." "Well," said he, "I am afraid 
they have won him away from us. I would never 
have thought it, but he is under the influence of al- 
cohol now." "What! Scott? " said I; " Scott, who 
was our genial companion, and who has been with 
us so often in our walks on this beautiful plateau? " 
Elliott was silent, and seemed deeply merged in his 
own meditations. 

Scott was never with us any more. Elliott and 
I for awhile kept up our evening walks on that 



38 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

beautiful plateau of ground, but when we found Scott 
with us no more they lost their interest, and gradual- 
ly ceased altogether. 

But here is the sequel of the whole story. Elliott, 
who told of Scott's first moral delinquency, and was 
so deeply affected over it, died from the effects of 
ardent spirits while in the State Legislature. What 
has become of Scott I know not. So long as I kept 
his history he was growing worse, more and more 
departed from what he might have been. Such 
is human frailty; such is life here below. I often 
think what a risk I have run in the West. How 
narrow have been my chances! There is a great 
deal in training children. The young men of whom 
I have spoken doubtless were almost properly trained, 
yet their youthful lessons lacked a little of impress- 
iveness. Methinks, dear mother, if you had trained 
those noble young men w^ien boys they would not 
have yielded to temptation. 



Ho w Innocency is Taken out of the Human Heart. 
I have seen enough history, and have made ob- 
servations enough, to know how innocency is ex- 
pelled from the human heart. She sits a modest 
guard in early life. While we acknowledge the 
moral decrepitude of human nature entailed from 
original transgression, yet we claim the latent virt- 
ues of the human soul may alwaj-s be brought to 
the surface by early and proper training. There 
need be no exceptions. It is emphatically a possi- 
bility. Training children is the worst managed af- 
fair that ever entered my meditations. Training 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 39 

properly is the exception to the rule. As long as 
this matter is so lightly regarded we will have our 
long court terms, long lists of crimes, reeling drunk- 
ards, and well-filled prisons. that parents would 
feel the weight of responsibility that rests on them 
in training their children ! A Christian mother in 
molding the character of her loved boy is engaged 
in woman's noblest work. 

If proper environments are around the youthful 
mind and heart in any half-way sense in early life, 
innocency shudders and her nature revolts when any 
companion enters whose presence pollutes the air she 
breathes — he is not a congenial spirit; but if a stran- 
ger enters with a degree of modesty like herself, yet 
hiding from the view some mean trait of character, 
she blushes not in diss^ust. He is entertained; a ere- 
nial friendship springs up, and she divides her realm 
of heart with him. Another stealthily wins his way 
to the human heart, and takes a seat beside innocen- 
cy on her throne. Again another and another, un- 
til the human heart is parceled out, and instead of 
an innocent governess ruling supreme, the kingdom 
is spoiled by partition, and the vices of the age that 
tend to ruin exert dominant sway. There can be, 
as a rule, no sudden transition from virtue to sin, 
from innocence to crime. The work is gradual. 



A Scene ox the Square Abound my Court-house 
School-room. 
Well do I remember a day Avhen intense excite- 
ment pervaded every side of the square in the cen-* 
ter of which I taught my little school. It was from 



40 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

early morning like a rising cloud of hate, revenge, 
and bitterness, and it grew more lowering as the 
hours rolled by. It seemed that all enemies had 
met for once, and all feuds contested; that the fu- 
ries of nature had assembled at one place to do 
their best. Whisky was ruling supreme. Ere the 
sun had reached his zenith, the very air appeared 
polluted with horrid oaths. As the day passed on, 
the loud talking gradually lulled into a repeated 
thud-like growl. That indicated the time was ful- 
ly up, and that whatever business was to be done 
must be immediately dispatched. 

It was one of those occasions in which you need 
not look to see — in which you need not be told; 
you comprehended the situation by drinking in the 
air around. Who that has proper convictions of 
rectitude and virtue could feel indifference for this 
frenzied hour? What boy could sit still in the court- 
room school-house when he could look through the 
windows and see the imlee in which his father was 
engaged. I pulled to the plank shutters. It made 
the room dark — too dark for study. I wanted to 
close my eyes and the eyes of those intrusted to 
my care against the dark, revolting picture displayed 
around. More than once an urchin sprung to his 
feet, and begged to be let out, that he might see how 
his father fared. 

By and by the storm of day abated. Meditative 
steps are heard and modulated tones of voice. Many 
have left the town who were foremost in the fray. 
I open the windows and let in the light of day. 
Comparative quiet reigns without. We resume 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 41 

our school-room duties, not knowing the casual- 
ties of the day. * Believe me when I sa}^ the picture 
is not overdrawn. Believe me again when I say a 
large majority of Texas citizens did not participate 
in such degrading actions, nor sympathize with a 
course so degrading and so lost to true manhood. 
The reckless spirit and lawlessness of a few gave the 
appearance among the many. 

Only one instance will I cite as illustrative of the 
day. In the shades of the evening my attention 
was called by the moans I heard in a little hotel. 
Stepping into it, lying on a couch I saw a most pit- 
iable object — the same young doctors of whom I 
have already spoken busily engaged in taking up 
broken arteries and trying, if possible, to check the 
flow of blood. This was in the days of their inno- 
cenc}^ The object on whom they were operating 
to my astonishment ^vas club-footed. I learned aft- 
erward that through the heat of whisky he was as 
fierce as any. Hence the sad picture he presented 
at close of day. 

About Dancing. 
On one occasion while in pleasant mood I was pass- 
ing to my boarding-house I heard on my left a romp- 
ing sound. I stopped, looked, and saw the whirl of 
human beings. N'ow moving around altogether with 
thundering sound; now again all still, with faces 
front, w^hile one with limping step now to the right, 
^and now to the left again, with corresponding gy-- 
rations queer and odd, until, like an acting magnet, 
one of the other sex, who now refreshed by rest, 



42 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

with toe more light and gyrations more humorous, 
starts to meet the figure form before him. I^ow they 
approach each other; now they recede again; now as 
puppets moved by wires they pass each other, he to 
the right and she to the left; now they turn and try it 
the other way, with skipping and hopping and phys- 
ical contortions funny and queer. Having shown 
each other all the bodily gyrations and steps of the toe 
they had learned, with tired limb and panting breath 
they for support seize each other by the hands, and 
round and round in dizzy whirl they finish. Then, 
with a consciousness of having done their best, look- 
ing love in each other's eyes, they retire to the line 
of the circle formed side by side. No sooner done 
than another figure form is out with toe as light, 
and another, until each one has had a chance and 
each one has done his best. Then again, hand in 
hand, round and round with thundering sound they 
all move together. 

What pedagogue would not stop after his day's 
labor and mental strain are finished and see such 
humorous sport? What traveler either among the 
Orientals or in the Western World would not deem 
it good luck to happen on such a scene? Why, 
surely this is a felicitous occasion for the pen of the 
traveler or the pencil of the artist. I will inquire 
something of this, thought I; and so after looking 
awhile at the funny, humorous action of the com- 
pany assembled there, thinking that I had no more 
time to spare, I soon reached the door-sill of my 
boarding-house. The old pioneer with whom I 
boarded was in. 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 43 

"Colonel," said I, '*I am a little behind time, but 
you just ought to go up yonder where that noise is 
and see something that beats P. T. Barnum or any 
clown East or West." 

" Why," said the Colonel, "do n't you know that 
a dancing-master has arrived in town, and some 
of the silly people are going crazy after him? He 
is showing the people now how to appear in so- 
ciety. He is going to teach the people the use of 
their toes and manners. He has made a school to- 
day of fort}^ scholars, and will begin his course of 
instruction to-morrow." 

I believe the Colonel was going to say more, but 
a couple of gentlemen stepping in broke as an inter- 
lude into his speech. He might have said many good 
things on the subject and the morals of the people, 
for he had gifts and grace, and but little patience 
with the intrusion of a dancing-master or any thing 
of like type which oxygenates public morals. The 
gentlemen were members of a committee, under in- 
struction to see me and if possible get me to sus- 
pend my school and give the dancing-master a 
chance; that the time he required was short, only 
two weeks; that many of my pupils would attend 
his school in order to learn the use of the "toe and 
manners." 

"Gentlemen," said I, "it is not for the sake of 
two weeks that I assume my position — it is not for 
any pecuniary advantage they can possibly afford 
me that I assume my position; it is on the broad 
ground of morality and virtue. Your request is 
most wretchedly unreasonable, and should I enter- 



44 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

tain it, I would be guilty of classing myself second 
to a dancing-master, which I shall never do, though 
the stars fall. I am young, it is true, though I think 
I have a mature judgment in this case. If your 
dancing-master educates the heel, I wish you to un- 
derstand that I am educating the mind and heart. 
Judge you who will implant solid manners, but be 
sure and "judge righteous judgment." As the 
teacher of your school, I claim the right to assess 
the guilt of my students, and to punish accordingly. 
If I am unreasonable, and incur guilt on myself, 
your recourse is to the statutes of the State. I here 
announce to you that any student of mine who shall 
attend the dancing-school shall be expelled, and that 
this shall in no w^ise exempt the parents of such from 
payment of tuition." 

The foregoing is as nearly as I can remember the 
speech I made to those gentlemen of the committee 
appointed to wait on me. It had an awakening 
influence on the citizens. My school went regular- 
ly on. The dancing-school was likewise taught 
through. By it much of the people's money was 
taken away, morality made worse, and consequently 
the manners of the people unimproved. At the close 
of the dancing-school two delinquent students of 
mine returned. I sent them back home as expelled. 
The parents came and protested against my action. 
I showed them my law. They apologized and prom- 
ised. The conditions justified me in kindly receiv- 
ing their children again. I have never, to this day, 
heard of a dancing-master in that town again. The 
whole affair shows a characteristic of the people of 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 45 

a new country. They are a little too much inclined 
to fall into line with what is popularly going, with- 
out considerins: its ultimatum 



A Plan to Regain my Lost Fortune. 

It w^as while I was still engaged here that I con- 
ceived the plan of regaining my loss in the certifi- 
cate swindle which 1 had sustained. The Colonel 
with whom I boarded was surveyor of a land dis- 
trict that embraced several counties in area. He was 
a candidate for reelection, and told me that in the 
event he was successful in the race he would give 
me a deputyship in the business. He said that he 
needed an active young man in the field; that he 
was getting old, and would do the office-work. This 
was pleasing news to me, and as I by education un- 
derstood the theory of surveying and had some prac- 
tice in the field, I felt ready at any time to take up 
chain and compass. There were hundreds of thou- 
sands of acres of land to locate in the district, and I 
could get all the work I could do in locating lands 
on the shares for men who had genuine certificates. 

I must sayjustatthisjuncture that school-teaching 
now appeared to me to be a little business — entirely 
too small for one who felt the prospect and capacity 
for surveying which I did, and who looked in fond an- 
ticipation to many fold more profit. I felt assured that 
the Colonel would be elected. He was an honest 
pioneer, a Christian gentleman — not a craving man, 
having great opportunities for wealth yet not amass- 
ing much of this world's goods. He had a prestige 
for frontier activity and Indian-fighting that merited 



46 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

respect and confidence. He was in the memorable 
encounter in which the lamented Colonel Denton 
was killed. I thought this man honest, and I have 
never changed my opinion of him to this day. 

The office being in those days a very lucrative one 
made it very desirable. This officer, though poor 
on the day of his election, might during the term of 
his office, by industry, become possessed of a large 
land estate. The Colonel, or present surveyor, al- 
ways had a good character up to this time; but 
the friends of his opponent, as I thought and still 
think, in a most dastardly manner turned a leaf in 
his history, which if true would blacken the char- 
acter of a man sufficiently to render him more fit for 
the companionship of demons than of men. It may 
be the interest I took in the election rendered me 
an improper judge in the case. However this may 
be, it was the opinion I had of the man before the 
contest, and it was general then; and I heard noth- 
ing of it after the election. 

On the day of election every advantage, honora- 
ble and disreputable, was taken. Intrigue, fraud, and 
lying banded themselves together in their most be- 
coming aspect. Voters were bought when the con- 
science of the man would not revolt. The merit of 
a favored candidate was lauded to the skies. Du- 
bious things became positive truths or positive lies, 
just to suit the cause. Opinions were emphasized 
with ungodly epithets, and passion rose on the 
smallest contradictions. Whisky was drunk by 
quarts without the money of those who gurgled it 
down. But the day passed by, the votes were 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 47 

counted. The Colonel was beaten by a majority of 
two votes. As a matter of course, my prospective 
financial policy was ended. No line was now open 
to me but, with an easy conscience, to continue my 
little school. 

How I Made Atonement for Being a Partisan. 
Old Tray is represented as a good-natured spaniel. 
Unluckily he was caught in bad company, and had 
to suffer. I do not to this day think I was in bad 
company. I was simply allied with the Colonel's 
party. This was my crime, though I felt not the 
pang of it nor felt its stain. It looked unphilosoph- 
ical to me, yet the young school-teacher, for the 
crime of being an honest partisan, had to suffer, 
all for party prejudice— that tyrant which when 
unbridled rides down innocency with a harlequin 
look; that knows no mercy, respects no claim, but 
looks solely to party aggrandizement ; that foolish 
imp that frames all its reasonings for a certain end, 
not considering whether it be right or wrong; that 
hound of the infernal depths that laughs at the mis- 
ery of one-half of mankind, delights in pulling so- 
ciety to pieces, and gives a lamentable howl when 
both truth and virtue prevail. 

Another schooi was soon established in another 
quarter of the little town, and now like two hives 
of bees — no, let us not in the comparison degrade 
the useful honey-making articulates that can sting 
but once and then die, but like two nests of wasps 
whose proximity has brought tierce combat between 
the members, each of which can sting a hundred 



48 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

times a day and then rest better through the night. 
Many a time a day it pierces, wounds, and poisons; 
and every time one is pierced it raises his anger 
more. From early morn till late at eve the combat 
grows; nor even does a Sabbath intervene to give 
the parties rest, till at last, weary of mind or tired 
of monotonous toil, their angers droop and they turn 
to things more novel. Thus it is when party spirit 
rliles the heart and frenzies the brain of man. In 
this kind of heat, if a deed is to be done, howsoever 
dark it may be, whether by the tongue or hand 
lifted high, there lives the man, if he is only sought, 
that will perform the act. In order to perform the 
most villianous deeds, search only need be made till 
the man is found. 

Disgust— Musings — Looking to the Legal 
Profession. 

I grew weary at the beholding. I love society, and 
nothing can win me away from congenial spirits. 
But when people forget their high origin and smelt 
their natures into the putridness of hate, jealousy, 
backbiting, and envy — of lying for party preference, 
without counting the cost to society, without real- 
izing the worth of man, moral and intellectual — then 
to me that quarter of the earth is a stench to my 
nostrils; it presents to my mind a loathsomeness of 
aspect, and has a plague in its atmosphere, against 
which my nature revolts. 

I resolved at the close of my school to find a place 
where there was union and peace — where society 
had no mildew upon it. I wanted to find a place 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 49 

where the granite rocks of love and friendship 
cropped out in pyramidal piles; where charity flowed 
as a peaceful river; where the sun rose in love, shone 
in beauty, and set in splendor. * I left the storm be- 
hind, and retired to a country-seat. It was a de- 
lightful change. 

Here was aroused in me anew the feeling I had 
experienced in my boyhood days. It was the 
promptings of an ambition that for sometime had 
been latent. Political life in early boyhood had for 
me a charm that made me feel restless. I loved its 
public discussions. The excitement came over me 
afresh while in my retirement. I appeared to my- 
self like one just waking up to proper reflections on 
his proper course of life. Dreams of promotion 
would sometimes pass before my vision. However, I 
was yet on the plain from which all beginnings start. 
Who is a benefactor to me? thought I. I am only 
a young man in the West, tossed up and down, full 
of mistakes and changing events; now looking for 
some sheltering rock where rest may be found. 

Yes, thought I, though a stranger, there is a 
chance for me, and I will abide my time with pa- 
tience. Moral worth is a good introduction, the 
very best commodity for a young rising man. It is 
this that will in time give him prestige. Let him 
only keep this, and combine with it intellectual cult- 
ure and industry, and the indications of his mind 
will be conceived by the advocates of right princi- 
ples. As a step before the public, I resolved on the 
study of the law. This I did not do, perhaps, as 
the student ordinarily enters on this profession — for 
4 



50 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

the living that is in it. I had an ambition that 
reached beyond the mere practice of the profession. 
My object was to use the profession of the law as a 
means of attaining unto the ultimatum, of my ambi- 
tion. However much I might have needed the liv- 
ing to be found in the practice of the law, yet it did 
not enter ray thoughts only in some secondary sense. 
The resolutions of my mind were the following: I 
will study the law; I will do my best to know it 
thoroughly; when I enter on the profession, I will 
never take a case which I shall know to be wrong; I 
will ever be ready to help the innocent; I will dis- 
cipline myself to the most rigid moral rectitude. 

In this view I procured books and entered on a 
course of reading. I became more fond of books 
than ever before in my life. I seemed to myself to 
be in a hurry; I found myself continually hurrying 
up; I was anxious to be before the people. In my 
spirit, w^hich perhaps was a little too sanguine, I 
calculated on success. This thought, continually re- 
curring, kept me comfortable. When I talked, I 
talked of the law and what I had been reading; when 
I walked, I meditated and digested. I loved to look 
into the problem of right and wrong, to run hair- 
lines of distinction, and see the very beginnings of 
turpitude and crime. 

If ever a man was overwhelmingly engaged in 
a study, I seemed to be that one; if ever a man was 
decided on a course of life, it was I. Yet, shades 
of the night! if you ask me if I ever practiced or 
liad a client, I will say no; if you ask me if I ever 
picked up the gauntlet of a political opi»onent, I 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 51 

will say no; if you ask me if I ever finished tlie 
study of the law, I answer no; if you ask me if my 
life has been a happy one notwithstanding, I say yes. 

Finding at Last my Proper Life Business. 
At this period in ray history a greater change came 
over me than at any period of my Hfe. In this pe- 
riod lifes business became fully confirmed unto me. 
True, I had resolved on political life as most conge- 
nial to my nature. I was now arduously engaged 
in the study of the law as a stepping-stone to that 
business. This I preferred to every other. Noth- 
ing seemed to move before my imagination like unto 
the principles of true government, the philosophy 
of the minds of the governed, legislative assemblies 
and their proceedings. This idea seemed planted in 
me, like a principle born in my nature. To pluck 
it up by the roots required the strength of an om- 
nipotent hand. To change my life from its inten- 
tions and fancies, after I had resolved to run it on 
principles as solid as the rocks and as pure as gold, 
was not a mortal act. I had no fear of moral de- 
cline in the business of my selection. The base on 
which I resolved to stand I knew would support me. 
I had seen in my short career in the West manj^ a 
man fall from my side — some whom I loved most 
dearly, and whom I hated to give up; yet I felt 
daily that I was more strongly intrenched in the 
paths of virtue and honor. Every one who had fall- 
en from my side was a lesson to me never to be 
forgotten. Happiness seemed just ahead, and all I 
had to do, thought I, was to steer on, and mv now 



52 ■ FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

small and scarcely navigable river would open into 
a deep, wide, and smooth sea. 

But, shades of the night! I found myself steering 
my life in a kind of human speculative sense, basing 
all my success on human ingenuity and power — giv- 
ing my consent, how^ever, fully to all the truths of the 
Christian religion. My life, however, in order to 
render it less liable to err, needed more grace — more 
of that principle that branches deepest in virtue, 
and gives an assurance that it will end in eternal 
fruition. I became very meditative, and would un- 
consciously hold up my own heart to view. It did 
not have the innocent appearance it had to me when 
I was a boy by your side and from day to day heard 
your kindly words. The West had not left me al- 
together unscathed; yet I had done no overt act 
against either the human or divine law that smote 
my conscience. The point that hurt me most was 
general neglect of duties. I resolved to make 
amends, repented, and felt better. 

I went to my books, but I found myself in unrest 
and unattempered to use them as once I did. Like 
a trace continuall}^ breaking, I yet hitched on again, 
until in disgust I left the business for a walk into a 
grave-yard. Here I stopped to ponder over life and 
all mortal things. Here I sat, I stood, I walked, I 
meditated, I prayed. I felt the throes of a revolu- 
tion going on in my moral nature. 

Many things came up in my memory that had 
long lain forgotten. When a little boy I had joined 
the Church. In those days I had many a struggle, 
and hardly contested many afield in ni}' own simple 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. • 53 

innocent way. Some of my acts then appear to me 
now quite silly and foolish; yet many others appear 
full wise enough for their clay. I remembered well 
that when a boy I promised most sincerely that I 
would be a preacher when proper years of discretion 
should come, and I remembered that I had repeated 
this promise time and again; but the most forcible 
remembrance, and that which made me shudder most, 
was the truant part I had played. 

Why did I go to the West? thought I. Simply 
to seek my fortune there? ]S"o, that was not all. 
That standing alone suppresses part of the truth. 
Verging into manhood as I w^as, I felt a growing 
independency of spirit. My individuality began 
to assert its claims. A cold indifierence came over 
me for religion and all moral good. what a 
crisis a young man has to pass through! There is a 
time when he needs help, patience, the kindliest ad- 
monitions. There is a period in the history of every 
young man's life in which he is sorely tried. I would 
place it from seventeen to twenty-one years of age. 
Changes are continually going on in him during 
this period. You see it in the changes of his voice, 
in his manners, in his plans, in the general bent of 
his nature, to assert his own individuality. This 
is the age that gives the most trouble to teachers 
and the greatest uneasiness to parents. It is the 
most formative period of our existence, for it is the 
period in which judgment begins to play a part, and 
consequently of rejecting and accepting. What is 
true of boys and young men applies with equal apt- 



54 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

ness to the other sex, only this formative period is 
of 3^oiinger years. 

I remembered my promise. I knew I ought to 
fill it; but no, the responsibility was too great — this 
is not the business of my liking. Here was the dark- 
est day of my history, a day in which no light broke 
on my moral vision; no friendly voice cheered my 
heart; no rainbow of promise spanned my moral sk}^ 
I sunk myself away in the seclusion of solitude, and 
locked my heart away from all human thought, and 
carefully kept the problem all to myself. Now, "to 
him that is afflicted pity should be shown.'' But I 
got no pity, because I did not make known my af- 
fliction. Here I resolved that I would be a preacher 
after the lapse of two years. On the promise my 
conscience became somewhat easy. In the mean- 
time I resolved to go West and leave, for awhile at 
least, these lands where my independence and indi- 
viduality were restrained. 

Now, dear mother, if I had confessed to you the 
state of my mind and heart, I would have found the 
comfort needed. How readily would you through 
word and token have helped me out of the slough 
into which I had fallen! and I, at an earlier day, 
might have been in the ministry at your door, and 
not after a lapse of time, so far away. But I, in my 
foolishness, resolved to fight my battles in an inde- 
pendent way, not appreciating a mother's helping 
hand. It was a strange forgetfulness in me. 

I had been in Texas for more than the stipulated 
time with which I eased my conscience. During 
that time, twice I had placed my stakes for a fort- 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 55 

une, but just as often realized the vanity of all things 
here below. I had fully discovered that a man may 
chase a bubble in fond anticipations, but that it may 
burst in a moment most unexpected, and with it 
vanish all fond hopes. Shall I give up the law with 
all my outgrowing anticipations? thought I. Yes, 
I resolved to give it up and let it go to the winds. 
This may prove but another bursting bubble, and I 
will pursue it no farther; it is but another cheat of 
man's own making; it is but one of those delusive 
fancies that may never bring happiness; I will dis- 
card it at once and add it to the list of vanities; 1 
will no longer trifle with an omnipotent hand that 
has always kindly led me and been long-suffering 
toward me. I gave up my own will, bowed my head, 
and He took me. God wanted me as one of his 
special agents. O wonderful, wonderful! 

'Now I remember, dear mother, just at this time I 
wrote you a long letter. I have your reply to it. 
I have always kept it as one of those cherished 
mementos too dear and fragrant ever to be lost or 
forgotten. Brother Fielding will please read for us 
again : 

OUR LETTERS ON THE MINISTRY. 

My Dear Mother: This letter will bear you tidings wliich, perhaps, 
will awaken in you a little surprise. There has been a great revolu- 
tion in my moral nature and feeling. I am impressed to-day that I 
am established on a rock whose base is sure and steadfast. I am 
called to the ministry of the gospel of Clirist. I have accepted the 
situation with a feeling of unworthiness, and yet of astonishment and 
wonder. There is no doubt in my nund that it is the will of God 
that I should bear a part of life's burdens in the capacity of a 
preacher. The great wonder to me is that one so unworthy should 
be raised to an office so high. I think now that I shall find a higher 



.56 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

enjoyment in this than in any other coarse of my life, although I 
have by no means attained unto it by choice. My ambition ran in 
another channel in which there is less sacrifice and much worldly 
honor. I have had a hard contest to quit the line of former inten- 
tions; yet I have at last yielded, and find pleasure in yielding. 

1 now forcibly realize the fact that every man has a mission here 
below, and that is that the world should be made better by his exist- 
ence ; but the trouble is, many do not accept the situation. The world 
is too" cold and selfish, and the individuals who compose it have too 
little concern beyond self. This ought to be a peaceful, happy world ; 
and it can only be made so through the mission of (Jhrist. As an 
agent in his hand and under his superior guidance, I sincerely desire, 
in a humble way, to put in my strength to ameliorate the condition 
of mankind and point them to the ultimate rest. 

I do not realize now that I am tossed up and down in the eartli 
for want of employment. There can now be no longer intermission 
in my life business. Every man is my neighbor and God is my 
friend. My nearest alliance is with Christ. The world is the field 
of my operation ; and in this, the same as in every thing I have at- 
tempted in life, I shall do my best, by the grace of God. The life 
before me is one of arduous toil and sacrifice, I know. The highest 
reward attainable here is the enjoyment which springs from a full 
consciousness of an entire submission to the will of God and conse- 
cration to the work; but in the end will come the full fruition. Who 
can contemplate the indescribable happiness of the man who through 
a life-time has borne the cross of Christ with undeviating rectitude, 
and feels that all is peace as he looks toward his going-down sun? 
Who can tell the joy of him, in such a time, who through life lias 
not sought personal preferment, but who through sacrifice has looked 
to the interest of his fellow-kind? 

The line in which I have been given a place has a grand history. 
If I should want to find the most beautiful specimens of moral hero- 
ism of which the earth can boast, I would only follow this line back 
through the centuries to Christ. The list is headed by Paul, the 
grandest hero of ancient or modern times; and all along is a hero- 
ism in sacrifice that would never have enriched the earth only 
through faith in the promises. It is a noble history. The society is 
the finest of earth, the company the noblest. I feel that I am in the 
enjoyment of a wonderfully grand promotion. 

I know I have had your help all along — your admonitions before 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 57 

I left, and your prayers since every day. True merit shall not go 
unrewarded, though we are all "unprofitable servants." I need not 
ask you to pray on, and especially for my steadfastness; I know this 
you will do. I trust this exaltation given me may prove a blessing 
to you ; and if you ever feel oppressed by gloom, and the shades of 
night gather around your moral sky, remember God has hunted down 
your son and made him a preacher in the West. Cheer up, mother; 
cheer up, and look toward your eastern sky. It looks a long way off; 
yet all the way down your life has flowed as a peaceful river. Now 
look toward your western sky ; see, it is getting nearer as the rolling 
years glide by. Does it not look beautiful? Your sun is now going 
down, and mine is going toward his zenith. I know yours will set 
after awhile with glow and radiance, yet there will be left behind 
an undying twilight to cheer your preacher-boy, until the waves of 
this present life are past and he with thee at last has found unceasing 
rest. 

Your son, with true filial devotion, 

MOTPIER'S EEPLY. 

Mxj Dear Son : I am not in the least surprised with the tidings of 
your late letter. My children are all in the hands of God, who has 
promised to be a father to the orphans. When you were young and 
only of a few summers, you remember how God thought it best to 
call my husband from these mortal shores. I then claimed the prom- 
ise he made, and committed tlie responsibility of a father to his care, 
trusting him to supply all needed things. I have shown more wis- 
dom by humble trust in him than in any other course of my life. In 
every thing else my life has been marred with mistakes and awk- 
wardness, but in this every thing has been in order and brought good 
results. Faith is the foundation of all true wisdom. No, I am not 
surprised at all. God knows best Avhat to do with his children. In 
answering your letter, I feel my own unworthiness, and yet a deep- 
felt gratitude to God for such a favor as he has bestowed on me — 
calling one of my sons to the high office of the ministry. This more 
than repays me for all my toils, diligence, and faith. While I can- 
not say it is the reward of my own virtue, yet I know virtue never 
goes unreAvarded. It is enough for me to know that Heaven is work- 
ing the highest respectability in my own family by calling one of my 
children and conferring on him so high an office. 

God, by whom all things are made, is continually sui)crintending 



58 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

his moral universe as well as governing the physical. The grandest 
display of his moral influence we find in the atonement made for sin 
by Jesus Christ. All other demonstrations look small in the com- 
parison. Yet choosing as he does to work through agencies, he does 
a little here and a little tliere. When it is all summed up and we 
look at the whole, Ave are struck with awe at the vastness of the work 
he is doing through agencies; yet he is in it all. God as certainly calls 
men to office in his moral government now as in any preceding 
age of the world's history. He has begun a work and, has not left 
it to the whims and caprice of men, but in time, by the sway of his 
power, through his government in direct operation and through his 
agents, will yet prove to the whole world the true merit and worth 
to man of Mary's Son. He has, seemingly in mercy to me, but more 
through the wisdom of his own choice, taken you into the army of 
his public servants. Son, this is a high enrollment; be true to your 
colors. 

Your life, I trust, will be one of much happiness; yet you Avill have 
many things to endure for Christ's sake. The eyes of the world will 
now be upon you more than ever before ; your correctest manner will be 
criticised by many. The least derelictions on your part will be mag- 
nified into great sins; you will learn much by looking deep down into 
your own nature and heart; and whatever you find wrong there, by 
correcting it, you will have to be more deliberate, and meditate more 
than you speak. Do nothing and say nothing without a consciousness 
that it is right. Above all, live near to Him whose cause you have 
espoused, and who has taken you into the higli office of the ministry. 

I have observed that it is not every one who is called that does 
good. It is only they who magnify that calling. Nothing, in my 
estimation, presents so sad and lamentable a picture as the manner 
of a minister of the gospel not corresponding with his high office. 
Light and chaflTy conversation are alike degrading in the minister of 
Christ. He should be sober-minded, his topics well chosen, and all 
his words of decent p]nglish. 

The minister of the gospel should be ambitious; not, however, in 
the ordinary sense of that word — seeking personal aggrandizement ; 
but in a holy, consecrated sense — striving after a high attainment in 
science, literature, and theology. In this way he will have a more 
congenial way of reaching the different classes of men. No other 
than a cultivated man, full up with the age in which he lived, could 
have with impunity preached Christ unto the Athenians from Mars' 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 59 

Hill. Yet Paul did this, and successfully introduced Christ. While 
Paul stood a success at Mars' Hill, a thousand carelessly living be- 
hind their age of the world would have fallen in the effort. Paul 
was so scholarly, and so well up with the age in which he lived, that 
he needed less of tlie U2:>per guardiansliip than some men. The 
grandest display of Heaven in his case was to break his Judaistic 
neck and inure him to the yoke of Christ. I hope you perceive 
this hint. God will never do for a man what man can do for him- 
self. He will only supply man with the things he needs and of 
which he is incapable. Some, in a mistaken way, look for more than 
necessary help from God. In this way life passes, and but little is 
known and done. The minister of the gospel must be studious. 

I shall entertain no doubt but that you will succeed in your new 
and high calling, and that you will be a humble instrument in do- 
ing much good. I know something of your manners and diligence. 
I am glad you have yielded, and have fought no longer against the 
claims high Heaven has on you. It would have been a sad day in 
my history to learn that you stubbornly opposed the Spirit of grace 
through your love for other things. I certainly, in that event, could 
have found no pleasure in following the history of a son so recreant 
to the Spirit's higli calling. 

I am not surprised that you have turned preacher, by the grace of 
God. Well do I remember that when twelve years of age you re- 
solved on reading the Bible through, and carried out the resolution 
that same year. Many happy hours did I spend in those days as I 
beheld you digging in the rich mines of God's sacred word. Even 
then I indulged the hope that God would find some special use for 
you. I could not find the true state of j-Dur heart then, on account 
of your reticence on personal experience. Go on, then, in faith and 
diligence, my son, and you will finally obtain your reward. 

Your affectionate mother, 

EEFLECTIONS ON A CALL TO THE MINISTRY. 
Now, clear mother, there are some who do not 
look at a call to the ministry as I do. There is a 
kind of speculative idea in the world that all men 
are under obligations to God, and that they are free 
to preach or otherwise, just as it may suit their con- 
science, or as the Church may appoint. I think it 



60 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

is well enough for the Church to exercise an over- 
sight in the matter, but by no means repudiate the 
fact that God this day and through all time will call 
men through his word and through the direct op- 
eration of his Spirit to till certain missions in this 
life, and more especially the ministry of his word. 
All the talk in the world and arguments of men 
could not change my mind that it is my bounden 
duty to preach the gospel, and that it is made plainly 
so on my mind and heart through the influence of 
God and his word. 

TPwOUBLES AND EMBAKRASSMENTS OF STARTING. 

After I was licensed to preach, I felt a strange 
gloominess creep over me. I constantly desired and 
sought solitude. My happiness came more by my 
own meditations than through converse with my 
fellow-kind. I was content with w^hat I had done 
and with my new relation to society, yet the highest 
pressure of unrest was upon me. Full of anxiety in 
this new sphere of activity, burning with ardor to 
And how to begin, a revolution of impatience per- 
vaded all the precincts of my mind and nature. I 
felt a desire to go out among strangers as a more 
congenial way of beginning. But where shall I go 
and exhibit myself in this new relation, drawn by 
the Spirit, and yet as if by haste and magic? I was 
like the man who commenced building his house 
without first sitting down and counting the cost. 
Ah! how always since I pity the young candidate 
for the ministry! Poor fellow! he must obey the 
call of the Master, yet how soon he feels the bur- 
dens of the cross! llo^v soon he realizes that enter- 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 61 

iiig the ministry is like entering no other business! 
I do always from the depth of my heart sympathize 
with the young man as I see him entering the min- 
istry. 

In the midst of my embarrassments, I concluded 
to go to the vicinity of my old ranch, about twenty 
miles west of where I was licensed to preach, and 
make my first efforts there. I knew many of the 
people in this vicinity. As I came near the neigh- 
borhood, I wondered how I should make known the 
fact that I w^as a licensed preacher. This was a very 
annoying thought to me, for I felt conscious they 
had never heard of the change wrought in me. I 
was relieved of this embarrassment, however, un- 
expectedly and handsomely enough. There was a 
good-meaning, clever citizen, a member of the Bap- 
tist Church, living on my ranch. His quick eye, 
notwithstanding my efforts to look as usual, discov- 
ered that a perceptible change had come over me. 
After the usual compliments, he said w^ith an anx- 
ious look, "What is the matter with you?" 

"Nothing unusual, I suppose," said I. 

"Yes, but," said he, "I know there is something. 
There has come some kind of a change over you." 

This was all very strange to me, indeed quite prob- 
lematical. I have since attributed it to the unusual 
seriousness that had permeated my whole being now 
for nearly a month. In reply, said I: " My friend, I 
suppose I shall have to give you a little speck of mj- 
history, which will probabl}^ explain all" you desire to 
know. I am now, sir, a licensed preacher; but I did 
not know till now that it had made a change in my 



62 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

appearance. I have recently been licensed to preach 
by a Quarterly Conference of the Methodist Episco- 
pal Church, South. This is a high office, and I feel a 
great degree of unworthiness for such a relation as 
I now sustain. Your surprise at my appearance is no 
greater than my own at finding myself in this new 
relation to society." 

" Well," said he, "I had much rather you had been 
a Baptist." 

" That," said I, " I can never be, and for reasons I 
am not now in a mood to give." 

"Well," said he, "we must have preaching any- 
how. We don't get much of it in this Western 
country. Methodist preaching is better than none. 
I suppose you are willing to preach for us." 

"Yes," said I, "I am willing to do what I can. I 
have not made a beginning yet, but I am willing 
and ready any day to try. But when shall I preach 
and where, for you know w^e have no churches in 
this country?" 

" Preach right here in this house," said he, "next 
Sunday; I will sec that you have a congregation." 

" Thank you, my friend," said I. Indeed, this was 
quite a surprise to me, and a very welcome one, for 
it took away quite a load of embarrassment. 



1/r First Sermon. 
When Sunday came, I was overwhelmed with sur- 
prise to find so many people assembling. For miles 
around they came — from Hickory Creek,Clear Creek, 
and Denton Creek, and from other places wherever 
a frontiersman had domiciled himself anywhere in 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 63 

reach. They came, men, women, and children, with 
their dogs and a few cats, to hear one of their num- 
ber — a pioneer, now turned preacher — proclaim the 
tidings of salvation. I have thought since if my 
friend on the ranch has done all his life's work as 
well as he spread the appointment of the new 
preacher, he is not one against whom the people 
should complain. 

But now the ordeal was at hand, the crisis that 
most tries the young preacher. He is naturally am- 
bitious, and wants to succeed. A consecrated ambi- 
tion is a holy thing and a desirable quality. By it 
he is a student, by it he becomes scholarly; though 
it is hard for him sometimes, after having done his 
best, to be content to leave the results with God. 
He desires to be the peer of any one. He has a high 
self-respect. He wants to feel that God will supply 
all lack; yet there rises up in him the consciousness 
that God \\\\\ never do for him what he can do for 
himself. On this ground be feels that he has to be a 
student and prepare for his ministrations. This be- 
ginning is a crisis in the life and experience of all 
young ministers. It may bring joy or sorrow, pleas- 
ure or mortification, kill or make alive. 

With much diffidence, at the hour appointed I 
appeared before my congregation. I, as I thought, 
went through a tolerable exercise; nothing in it 
particularly to elate or cast down — good enough for 
a beginning perhaps, and yet mainly attributable to 
previous hard study of the subject. My mind was 
now fully impressed that if a man preached he had 
to do what is usually 'done in any profession — ^pre- 



64 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

pare himself for the business by hard study. Med- 
itation and prayer would of course occupy their 
proper places. 

I gave notice here of my intention to go into the 
traveling connection and of being a regular itinerat- 
ing minister; that I could stay with them only a 
short time. On this announcement I was requested 
to preach for them again. This I did two or three 
times. Then I left them for the Quarterly Confer- 
ence in which I sought a recommendation. I felt a 
deep sense of my un worthiness for so high a calling, 
and a great lack of that knowledge which is neces- 
sary for the successful minister of Christ. I had 
heard several persons preach since I had obtained 
license, and all appeared in advance of me in the 
knowledge of God's word and power. I still desired 
and sought seclusion, and often felt mortified on re- 
flecting on my own incapacity to handle the word of 
God with a master's hand. A consciousness of my 
weakness made me resolve to know the Scriptures, 
to be a hard student of the word of God, to labor 
to improve m^-self in all respects, that I might find 
favor before the people and therefore do good for 
Christ's sake. However, I embraced no idea more 
fully than that God would help me onl}^ in things 
which I could not do myself. Hence all my prayers 
went up in this philosophical and scriptural way. 



Going to My First Conference. 
I was duly recommended by the Quarterly Confer- 
ence for trial in the traveling ministry. Only a few 
days passed before all things. were ready, and I 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 65 

found myself en route for the city in which the An- 
nual Conference was to be held, a distance of more 
than two hundred miles. My company of preachers 
^oing down were all mounted on horseback — were 
five in number, making six of us altogether. One 
like myself just starting, another of two years' ex- 
perience, highly opinionated in himself, and three 
others, elderly-like, either in or approaching toward 
the meridian of their days; all seemingly jocular 
enough, as though they w^ere out for recreation or 
on a holiday hunt. I did not feel as they did, nor 
do I think my friend just starting did. My utmost 
effort could not shut down the rising tide of serious- 
ness which ramified all the secret cells of my nature, 
and which at times seemed to burst the dikes and 
dams of my meditations, and fill me with misgiv- 
ings and alarm about the great business into which 
I was entering. In view now that it is past, I am 
not sorry; but I would shudder to know that the 
experience were to be repeated. Several times I 
was chided for my reticence; yet to be otherwise 
was against my nature. Often I thought if those 
seniors only knew the half that was in my heart, 
they would not chide, but sympathy and pity would 
be awakened as for one that is afilicted. Surelj^, 
thought I, they have forgotten their troubles of 
other days. But our lives here are full of annoy- 
ances and mistakes. The flower may look beauti- 
ful enough to the eye, but be repulsive to the olfac- 
tory; the fruit may look red and inviting, yet be 
bitter to the taste. 

I think preachers need recreation as well as peo- 
5 



(jG five years in the west. 

pie of other professions. The highest recreation in 
Texas in those days among the preachers was found 
in going to Conference, which was generally a long 
jaunt on horseback. It was performed in groups 
of three or half a dozen together. The poor hard- 
worked fellows had their purses better filled now 
than at an}^ other season of the year, and if ever 
they had a full new suit all at once, either had it on 
or carefully stowed away in their saddle-bags for 
display in the city of the Conference. The manner 
of their attire was regarded jis a sure index of their 
financial success, or, to say the least, that they had 
either been among or not among a clever people. 
But few questions were asked of any one who 
seemed to have fared well concerning the people 
whom he served; no one seemed to care to hear him 
say that a petition was in for his return, for each 
one thought the place would do, and if he should at 
the close of Conference be read out to it, he would 
only be fortunate. 

They usually went to Conference in all sorts of 
moods for conversation. Now strung out two and 
two together, or carelessly apart, and now again the 
Avhole group together. At one time the conversa- 
tion low and monotonous, again in a louder tone. 
At one time seriously engaged in conversation on 
doctrine, or perhaps more seriously on the trials of 
itinerant life; but again in reminiscence or anecdote 
at which sometimes would come bursts of laughter 
that would make the hills and forests give back the 
echo round. One is gloomy, he is chided into ac- 
tion ; another is reticent, he is rallied : another talks 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. G7 

too long on one subject, be is fired into and scat- 
tered. Tbeir minds were usually as well stocked 
witb anecdote and humorous incidents as each one's 
treasury department — tbe saddle-bags — was of 
manuscript, books, and his best clothes. No enjoy- 
ment ran higher than when they could make one 
of their number the subject of remark, some inci- 
dent humorous and really enjoyable having eked 
out from his lips at an unexpected time and in 
an unexpected way. He was then the hero of the 
day. 

Any new traveler with them soon becomes con- 
vinced that Methodist circuit riders have seen much, 
heard much, and know much. Their magazines of 
wit, humor, anecdote, and reminiscence seemingly 
have had closed doors, awaiting the occasion when 
the brotherhood take liberty wdth one another which 
they do with no one else. On these occasions, every 
one is presumed to be fully able to take care of him- 
self. If he awkwardly falls into a ditch, he scarcely 
ever gets a helping hand; if he bogs in a mire, he 
must clean his own clothes. He gets no cjuarter, 
he gives none. He rises by his own ingenuity; he 
falls by his ow^n weakness. " Be a man " is the idea ; 
nor is it without its fruit of cultivating self-reliance. 
T w^as a quiet observer of men and times in those 
days — more so than ever before or since. I saw^ some 
things that rasped my nature. My own mood dis- 
qualified me for many things really enjoyable. I 
could see nothing particularly sinful in my company. 
It was only the bounding of the spirit which for a 
short time w^as relieved from heavy cares. It was a 



68 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

holiday recreaticii, fall of enjoyment, especially to 
the men already inured to a circuit rider's life. 

On some of these occasions there was perhaps a 
little too much rein given to thought and expres- 
sion, but some one would soon begin to moralize. 
Seniors should always be exemplars before the ris- 
ing buds in the ministry. The young preacher is 
tender, and needs the most careful nursing. He 
neither needs to see too much nor to hear too much. 
All the evidences he gets from his seniors should 
tend to inspire him with a devotional spirit and the 
great worth of human souls. lie is but a bud yet 
to bloom, and the tints and coloring of the flower he 
shall make are yet to appear. He is an imitator, and 
will find a model somewhere; he has nowhere to go 
outside of the sphere of his acquaintance to find it, 
and will naturally find his model among the preach- 
ers. Some one of these is sure to be an ideal character. 
Hence it becomes all seniors to be grave, and especi- 
ally to avoid lightness and chaffy conversation, which 
are repugnant to the word of God. This would by 
no means suppress hilarity of spirit when properly 
attempered by sober-mindedness. It is no check on 
anecdote, humor, and wit, when not of a low and vul- 
gar order. 

At Conference — A Sketch. 

Finally our last day's journey was finished, and 
we found ourselves at Conference. Here they came, 
from near and far, to report the summing up of a 
whole year's stewardship, with " How d' ye " here and 
" How d' ye " there,with greeting smiles and enjoyable 
looks, in annual social o^atherino^ that the brethren 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 69 

love. We received instraction or obtained s:nides 
to our respective boarding-liouses during the session. 
On reaching my boarding-house, I found one had 
preceded me. As I stepped to the door, I saw him, 
long and lank, looking as though he had more ribs 
to the side than usually belong, to men, or else a 
greater space between them. With semi-guttural 
tone and nasal twang; with knees too high when 
sitting, and head too low when standing; linking 
the mien of a mixed mind with a crooked gait; be- 
ing the embodiment of importance with the soul of 
a stray dog; there he sat, as I entered, carelessly, 
unconcerned about circumstances, with high knees, 
and an almost neckless head resting on his body — the 
ill omen of any thing the imagination could work 
up. While I was musing who the stranger was, the 
polite landlord came in and soon made known to 
us this man who so much abused nature in his phys- 
ical development. 

He was a new-comer, with his parchments, from 
one of the sister Churches, knocking at the door of 
Methodism to find a place to preach the word, and 
perhaps along with it to show to the people what 
the forces which had worked in his physical struct- 
ure could do for one mortal man. He reminded me 
of the lost link; and I never doubted, in the event 
he should succeed in getting an appointment, but 
that people would meet wherever he appointed to 
preach or otherwise display — for there are people 
who go for the gospel's sake, and others to a monkey- 
show; and where the two are united, the best con- 
gregations may be found. Thousands go to hear 



70 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST.* 

the gospel, but more to see the enormities of Bar- 
mim; and lo! a greater than Barnum was here. 

".Hadn't orter" was one of his pet phrases, for 
he w^as from a State far North, and neither talked nor 
looked like our people. " Yes," said he, " I am from 
another Church, but I think the Methodis' do some 
things they hadn't orter do." "What things?" 
said I. " Why," said he, "I think they had n't or- 
ter baptize their babies." Said I: "Sir, you 'had 
orter ' staid where you were, and ' had n't orter' come 
away. What are you going to do about it if the 
Conference gives 3'ou a circuit? " Said he, " I reckon 
I had n't orter say any thing about it." This is only 
a specimen of our conversation. I had no voice on 
the Conference-floor. I certainly would have stopped 
this impostor. I privately spoke to some of the 
brethren of him, but heard nothing of it afterward. 
I perhaps had gotten more into the inner character 
of this man than any other. 

As this odd character is before me, I will finish 
with him, and then go back and take up the thread 
of my narrative. Yes, he got an appointment along 
with the others of us. The strange combination of 
elements both in the moral and physical develop- 
ments marked this man as a real subject in life's 
history. Such a subject I w^ould never quit for 
another w^hen my problem is to describe any thing 
out of order. Hence I resolved to watch him with 
a vigilant eye; to lose no occasion to inquire how he 
fared, and how they fared whom he served. And 
now, but not by our own fault, but through his own 
g^ction, we have to cut off his history abruptly. The 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 71 

circuit did not fit him, or else he did not fit the cir- 
cuit. In his financial strait, he managed to borrow 
an overcoat of one, money of another, horse and 
buggy of another, and so far as I have ever learned 
neither he nor the goods liave ever been heard from. 
He went, as the good people thought, to the place 
whence he came. Whether there the people all sit, 
stand, and act alike, I have never learned. Yet in' 
my meditations on this jackanapes, taking away the 
things he did, through sympathy for the brethren 
he wronged, I always think he " had n't orter " done 
it. This whole history goes to sliow the caution to 
be used in receiving others who are fond of Church- 
changing. There are some good men who are hon- 
estly convicted and convinced, no doubt, yet there 
are others who use it as a policy or make-shifi to 
get along throucrh the world. 



In the Conference-eoom. 
But I know you want me to go on with my nar- 
rative. In the Conference-room was the gravest time 
with these Methodist preachers. A bishop is in the 
chair. what an awe-power he was! True, he 
was only a man of like passions with others, yet he 
was seen only once a year, and sometimes even less 
often in those days, when distances in the West were 
so great and conveyances so slow. When he did 
come, however, with some of the brethren, and es- 
pecially the younger ones who knew but little away 
from the West, it was like getting a visit from 
another planet. Perhaps the best order in Confer- 
ences was to be found in the West. Business moved 



72 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

regularly ou, and without disturbance — not simply on 
the ground of the awe-power of a presiding bishop, 
for this did not always happen, but on the ground of 
Western education, a high self-respect, and its coun- 
terpart, a patient consideration of others. The Con- 
ference-room is always an exceedingly interesting 
place to the young preachers. They always go away 
much improved in both mind and heart. 



The Outlook Among the Beet he en. 
After a few days, the novelty of things having 
somewhat abated, the principal topics of friendly 
intercourse having been discussed, conversation turns 
more in the direction of interest. The old familiar 
"chum" names are not forgotten. Every one be- 
gins to look to an appointment, and yet no one 
knows where he will be sent. Even the presiding 
elders work hard to have their districts "well 
manned," as they call it. Among the preachers you 
may hear one say, "John, w^here are 3'Ou going next 
year?" "Buck," says another, "what kind of peo- 
ple did you serve last year?" These and similar 
questions are heard from a rising suspicion or imag- 
ination that the questioner has found where he is 
going the ensuing year. Perhaps a presiding elder 
has asked some one how" he would like to go to 
Jordan Mills, or how he would like to follow Bill 
Jones. The poor fellow makes his own intepreta- 
tion, and often thinks he is going to the place named 
by a presiding elder. It is astonishing how many 
have found out, or think they have found out, where 
they will be sent the ensuing 3'ear. These things, 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 73 

however, arc mutable up to the last moment. Many 
a poor fellow finds things at last neither as he ex- 
pected nor hoped. 

Heading the Appointments. 

But at last the inevitable hour arrives that either 
kills or makes alive. The Conference business is fin- 
ished, and the appointments are all fixed. A slip of 
paper is in the bishop's hand that contains the full 
announcement. He rises deliberately, and before he 
announces the verdict of the year, from which there 
can be no appeal, he kindly and fatherly admonishes 
to heroism, without which no man can achieve a 
good history — no one can expect a crown. In some 
parts of his address tears may be seen gathering in 
the ej^es of many. This address is a very useful 
thing when properly thought and delivered. Many 
a poor heart that was almost shrinking from the 
task of a Methodist preacher is encouraged to still 
endure for the sake of the Master. A stillness now 
reigns supreme. Hearts are to be tried. The bish- 
op reads the list in slow announcement. Each one, 
as his own scribe, is trying to write it all down. He 
w^ants to know it all, nnd be able to tell it to the 
people whom he is appointed to serve; i'or in the 
West, with the poor facilities there in those days, 
months might pass before the published minutes 
could be distributed. To compensate for this, each 
one tried to carry the minutes in memory or manu- 
script. 

Look yonder! a face is radiant with pleasure. 
That one is placed where he would like to go. But 



74 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

look yonder! there is a bowed head. It has uncon- 
sciously dropped toward his knees. It is not as he 
likes; but do not fear — he will go, and before another 
Conference gathering will find many good fathers 
and mothers to raise his head, take away his gloom, 
and bless his soul. But look yonder I no tear is fall- 
ing. It is the erect form of a noble youth, looking 
about wistfully, unconscious whether the announce- 
ment for him is east, west, north, or south. It mat- 
ters not; he will go. Under the Master's call he 
will forsake home endearments, and leave behind a 
loving mother and a fond sister to lift up before the 
eyes of men the cross of Christ. 

But the last appointment is announced. The cur- 
tain drops. Where there was a bowed head it begins 
to rise up. They begin to wipe away all tears. Then 
the parting scene is soon over. " Good-by, John; 
God bless you!" "Good-by, Jake; my good boy, 
cheer up." " Farewell, Buck ; do n't forget to write 
to me." " Billy, tell ma they have sent me away off 
yonder, and I cannot come to see her for a year." 
Away they go. Some east, who had been traveling 
west; some west who had just traveled east. An army 
of evangelists, refreshed and newly inspired by their 
annual gathering, is turned loose again on Satan's 
kingdom with armor bright ; and the " ruler of the 
darkness of this world" trembles on beholdino:. 



My Assignment — Somto w — Incidents. 
My appointment was to a large mission work, or 
rather to two missions, in conjunction with a senior 
brother. The nearest line to reach the work from 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 75 

the seat of the Conference was at least two hundred 
and fifty miles; but owing to a sad and unexpected 
circumstance, I was called to go a route of nearly 
twice this distance. My brother-in-law, who had 
but recently moved to Texas, had been killed by the 
accidental falling of a stick of timber. Having re- 
ceived notice of this sad affair, I started for the mis- 
sion work, but, in sympathy for a sorrowing sister, 
on this circuitous route. 

An incident occurred in my history as I was on 
my way to this house of sorrow, which I will nar- 
rate here because of the surprise it awakened in 
my mind. I traveled the whole distance from the 
seat of the Conference to the home of my widowed 
sister alone — a distance of between two and three 
hundred miles; much of the way being of a char- 
acter that awakened in me a spirit of loneliness on 
account of its solitude. It was principally pine- 
woods until I reached the neighborhood of the 
Trinity River, when the pine and sand began to 
give way to oak and more solid earth. Where I 
halted for my dinner I was informed there was a 
short way recently opened across the Trinity River, 
by wdiich I could save many miles in reaching my 
destination. I embraced the idea with pleasure, 
for above all things I wanted to make time. This 
new way across the Trinity was full of novelty, and 
proved by no means pleasing to me then. l)own,, 
down the Trinity bottom I went for a long distance 
before I came to the ferry. But one lone traveler 
had I met that afternoon, and had seen no habita- 
tion for several hours. It was a lonesome evening. 



76 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

On arriving at the ferry, I saw a boat, and it too on 
the favorable side of the river, but no ferryman. I 
looked up the river, down the river, across the river, 
and through the swampy woods, but no human form 
could I see. In the absence of a horn to blow, I 
whooped with all my might, but the only respond- 
ing sounds were the reverberating echoes of my own 
voice. Night-fall was now approaching, and " I must 
get out of here" was m^^ immediate resolve. I knew 
that unless I could have better luck advancing than 
retreating, the leaves would be my bed and a log my 
pillow for the night. Though unused to the project 
of ferrying myself across a river, I nevertheless took 
off my saddle-bags laid them in the boat, and led in 
my faithful horse. I then loosed the fastening, and 
with rope and stick made for the opposite shore. 
This I could not do by a space of three feet, on ac- 
count of a stake under w^ater. I threw my saddle- 
bags on shore, for I carried no bottle in them, nor any 
thing else easily broken. I followed with rope in 
hand, intending to fasten the boat to shore; but to 
my surprise, my noble horse, as if impatient and in 
dread of a crisis, may be through my awkwardness, 
leaped to shore. My hurry to give him space to 
light, and the reaction which his spring gave the 
boat, jerked it loose from my hand. As I saw it 
receding, I hesitated for a moment to lind what I 
could do. I saw I could do nothing. Wishing no 
harm might come of it all, I mounted and began to 
hunt for a place to lodge for the night. 



five years in the west. 77 

The Surprise of the Night. 
On and yet on I went. The dusky eve brought 
no relief. I was just despairing of finding lodgment 
for the night when, a little ahead and just off to the 
left, I discovered a light. It broke graciously on 
my gloomy mind. What traveler, when late and 
weary, would not thank God for light and a home 
for the night. " Hello! " rang my voice on the night 
air as from a gladdened heart. A figure appears; 
another, and another. They are Indians, as veri- 
table Indians as I had ever seen. But, however, 
thought I, it may not be so bad after all, although I 
have never heard there were any Indians in these 
parts. I made known that I was a weary traveler, 
wanted lodging for the night, and food for my horse. 
I was permitted to alight, but got ill fiire both for 
myself and horse. After eating a little of such as 
they furnished me, I sat by the little fire they had 
kindled, for the evening was cool. To my great 
surprise, one-of them became very inquisitive. Reti- 
cence is the generafcharacter of the Indian, but this 
one, either from the promptings of an abnormal 
nature or from some manifestations growing out of 
my surprise, became very free to interrogate me. 
He seemed to understand the geography of the 
State. "What is your name?" said he. This I 
gave. " Where do you live? " I gave him the place 
where I had been living. " Where have you been? " 
I gave him the place. "Where are you going?" I 
answered, naming the counties in which my mission 
work lay. "In the cattle business?" "Not extensive- 
ly," said I. " Well, what you come 'way round here 



78 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

for?" Now, I admit. I w^as traveling circuitously 
awkward to the mind of one who did not fully un- 
derstand my intentions; but this was more than I 
could stand even from a red man, who showed cult- 
ure enough as a host not to have put such questions 
to the traveler. I turned my eyes on him w^ith the 
determination of true manhood, and addressed him 
as follows : " Sir, you have taken me in for the night, 
and as a traveler I claimed you as my host. You 
have violated the courtesy which properly exists 
between us in the relation w^e sustain of host and 
traveler. Whether it arises from your ignorance or 
grossly from your heart, I cannot tell. As it relates 
to myself, you shall know who I am. I am what 
is called a Methodist circuit-rider. I have been at- 
tending an Annual Conference of the preachers, and 
am on this circuitous route to visit a recently wid- 
owed and sorely afflicted sister; after which I shall 
travel and preach on the mission work to which I 
am assigned. You \\\\\ now, sir, please show^ me 
wdiere I may rest for the night." He did not look 
pleased at all, though he uttered not a word. Others 
were present, but they said nothing; they looked as 
though they did not know how to take it, or else did 
not understand what w^as up. 

The cabin had two rooms, and I was show^n to 
the other. In it there w^as a place cut out for a 
chimney w'hich had never been built. The head of 
my bed w^as immediately by that. I blew out the 
sort of burning wick with which I had been sup- 
plied — taking care first, however, to reconnoiter the 
room, and to evade as far as possible any uneasiness 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 79 

should any one in any conceivable way be watching 
me. I took some old wrecks of benches, that for 
some cause were lying in the room, and propped 
the door; that made it troublesome and noisy for any 
one to enter that way. This left me no place to 
guard except the niche in the wall cut for a future 
lire-place. I lay down on the bed with my plans all 
matured. I could not suppress the uneasiness of 
the hour. I do not remember that I prayed; I 
rather think I did not. I was anxious for anv thins: 
that was intended; I wanted it to come off without 
delay, result in whatever way it might. I felt a 
kind of readiness, and lay awake for a long time 
waiting and expecting. I even snored aloud to in- 
duce them, if any thing was intended, to begin the 
action. But the dead stillness of the night indicated 
repose all around. I became much wearied through 
watching, so much so that unconsciously and unin- 
tentionally I sunk away into sound sleep. When 
I awoke the sun was giving occasional glimpses 
through the trees, and there was a hum of voices 
around. All went well, and probably all was meant 
well; yet I take no pleasure in such experiences, 
and do not desire to have them repeated in my 
history. 

Mr Bebeaved Sister. 
When I arrived at my sister's I felt a considerable 
weariness through the journey I had made; but this 
was soon forgotten by the spectacle presented by 
the little family. They had been in Texas but a 
short time, only a few days, when the sad calamity 



80 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

already mentioned befell them. Far away from 
friends and loved ones left behind, and having had 
but a short time to make acquaintances in the West — 
she herself apparently blooming in youth, yet with 
eyes declining to sadness and a face marked with 
care and sorrow; around her five unconscious in- 
nocents, going- or wanting to go wherever she went. 
They often in their prattling way mentioned the 
uame papa, but never without bringing tears, to the 
eyes of the sorrowing mother. Circumstances all 
seemed to meet in a way that truly made this a 
house of sorrow — even such as our Saviour would 
have visited had it been in Palestine, and in those 
days when he personally walked with men. , She 
herself was young, and ardentl}^ devoted to her hus- 
band; just arrived in a new country, and far away 
from old home and friends; the unfortunate and un- 
expected death of her husband; the five little chil- 
dren around her, whose memories were full of papa's 
looks and care. This sad picture to this day has 
never left my memory. It became fastened in me 
with a hold that time, with its changes, can never 
erase. She had enough of this world's goods for 
all necessary comfort, but no measure of these things 
could compensate for the vacant chair, nor could 
they lift the load from the heart. It was one of 
those heavy burdens a mortal here below has some- 
times to bear. Here I became convinced that sor- 
row can plow his deepest furrows without the aid 
of pinching poverty. I have visited many a house 
of sorrow since; but were I a painter and desired to 
paint young widowhood in sorrow, my pencil would 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 81 

naturally fall on the scene here so feebl}^ pictarecl to 
the view. There would be in it none of the squalid- 
ness of poverty, yet there would be in it the eyes 
and face which show^ how things lay about the heart. 
I remained several days here. M}^ dear sister ap- 
peared a little improved and more resigned when I 
left. I saw, however, that sorrow was cutting deep 
tracks that would remain on a beautiful face like a 
scar through life. I endeavored to show her the 
advantages she had over some widows, and exhorted 
her not to sink too deeply into a state of melan- 
choly. I bid good-by deeply impressed in my own 
soul. I dropped a tear, trusted God, and started for 
my assigned mission work. 



Horse Swapping. 
I was now anxious to get to the missions and see 
what I could do for the salvation of souls. I had 
heard that it was a little dangerous on the missions 
on account of the Indians. I began to think my 
horse was hardly suited for such a work. I like- 
wise always believed that God Avould only do for us 
what we could not do for ourselves. Therefore, I 
thought it prudent to try and get better mounted. 
On my way I stopped for a night's lodging with a 
Mr. Harris, a jovial, pleasant, good-natured man to- 
ward the traveler. I made known to him my mis- 
sionary work, and the fact that I thought a man 
traveling such a work, on account of the danger, 
should be well mounted. In this he entirely agreed^ 
with me, and in his jovial, pleasant way said : " Why, 
I have got theverj^ horse you need for such a work. 



82 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

You look like a clever young man, and I would hate 
to hear of your being scalped. I think I can set 
you up just right for your dangerous mission work. 
In the morning I will show him to you, and if you 
wish to trade I. will give you a good bargain." 

Now, this Mr. Harris was one of those men pe- 
culiarly tempered in that way, in which a horse never 
passed by unless he looked at him with an earnest 
gaze. He looked at the form and observed the gaits 
of all horses. He formed his opinions of horses 
readily, and I think seldom erred. He doubtless 
then knew all about my horse in the stable, though 
I was unconscious of it. However, that night in 
answering him I said: ''Very well, sir; any righteous 
trade in which I can mount myself better for the 
mission work to which I am assigned I shall cer- 
tainly be willing to make, and shall regard it as a 
favor.'' 

The morning light broke upon me much refreshed. 
In due time the talked-of horse was brought to my 
inspection. "How old is your horse, Mr. Harris?" 
said I. Said he: "I am a member of the Presby- 
terian Church, and I think you might say Brother 
Harris." " Very well," said I; " then. Brother Har- 
ris, how old is your horse?" "He is eight years 
old," said he. " That, Brother Harris," said I, " is a 
very clever age. Your horse is neither too young 
nor too old for durability." "Look in his mouth," 
said he. "Ah ! Brother Harris, as to that," said I, " I 
shall have to depend on your statement, for I know 
nothing of that science." "Well," said he, "there 
is the horse. I have told you that he is eight years 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 83 

old. Tommy, get on him and show his gaits. See, 
he moves ck^verly in three or four ways, but that 
fox-trot is the best for regular traveling. I'll vent- 
ure when mounted on that horse the scalping-knife 
will never get near to your head, for that horse has 
speed. An Indian never owned a horse that could 
catch him. Now, I will tell you what I will do. 
Though my horse is larger than yours, as well 
formed and better gaited, you can ride off either one 
yon want." I thouglit a moment; and yet it seemed 
like there was no use in thinking, for Brother Har- 
ris's horse, in my judgment, was the best for me in 
the mission work, though I knew mine was a good 
horse of his class. " I believe. Brother Harris," said 
I, "that I will ride off your horse and leave mine 
with you." "All right," said he, "but I hate very 
much to see Pompey go." Now, I hated to leave 
my faithful George behind; but I regarded him in 
good hands, and was sure he would be kindly treated. 
Away I went on "Pompey" for the missions; a 
noble-spirited fellow, indeed. Why, surely he is all 
that Brother Harris represented, and even more. It 
is a blessed thing to meet with good men, thought 
I, and was no longer thinking of my horse, and had 
ceased watching his gaits. I suppose I had traveled 
live miles when the manner of my horse called my 
attention to him again. He was not getting along 
well; he Avas sadly failing. At ten miles lie was 
fearfully under; all his sprightliness was gone, and 
all his nimbleness of foot. His story is soon told. 
He was a broken-down steed, eight years old, to be 
sure, but how much older perhaps Mr. Harris him- 



84 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

self did not know. He was an old horse which in 
his young days kept his spirit for a day, but now 
in age, pampered for a cheat, could endure for only 
an hour or two. 

Do you ask me what I think of Mr. Harris? I 
will tell you. I think he had a good mother and 
some good brothers, for several of them were in the 
ministry. I think his wife was a good woman, and 
that all their children that take after their mother 
will be honorable and good. I think he had many 
good neighbors who never told falsehoods by sup- 
pressing part of the truth. I think the Presbyterian 
Church to which he belonged is about as good as 
any of the Churches, and that thousands of her 
members will by and by reach the sunlit shores of 
the blissful -future, where there is no necessity for 
Methodist circuit-riders to swap horses with Presby- 
terian farmers. Now, you are bound to say that all 
of these are good opinions, and yet they are all I 
have to say of my host, Mr. Harris. 



How I Finally Got Mounted for the Mission 

Work. 
]^ow, I owned a little ranch stocked with a few 
horses. This ranch lay in the direction of the mis- 
sion work to which I was assis^ned. On it lived a 
friend. Finally I arrived at my ranch and ex- 
plained to my friend how I came to be afoot. This 
friend was fond of a joke, laughed heartily at my 
mishap, and said: "I know exactly how I couUl suit 
myself in this emergency, and I think it would suit 
you." "My friend," said I, "tliat is the very kind 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 85 

of talk I wish to hear just now, but I am sure there 
is no horse on this ranch that will answer u\y pur- 
pose." "No, no," said he, "but would jou have 
any objections to riding a racehorse?" "Well," 
said I, "that depends upon the circumstances. If 
it is to ride him on the track, or to train him for the 
races, I would most seriously object on the ground of 
the morality involved; but if it is for getting away 
from the Indians, I would regard myself happy to 
be so w^ell mounted.'' " Well, I will tell you," said 
he, "Mr. Scruggs, over in town, has a black race- 
horse of pretty good turn to be managed, and wants 
to trade him for a work-horse. I think that bay 
horse of yours, with a white spot in his face, will 
suit him. If you can get that black horse, my word 
for it, you will be well mounted." "Thank you, 
my friend," said I; "to-morrow I must of necessity 
attend to a little business in town. I will ride Han- 
dle," for that was the name of the horse to which 
my friend referred, " and I will see whether my horse 
suits Mr. Scruggs." "You need not fear on that 
score," said he, "for I rode him to town the other 
day, and he asked me if that was a good work-horse. 
He said that he was done with racing, and wanted a 
w^ork-horse." Accordingly, on the next day, I rode 
Handle into town and rode out on the Scruggs black 
race-horse. All trading was fairly done, and Mr. 
Scruggs, as I afterward learned, was pleased with 
Handle. I do not know what was the former name 
of my black horse, but I named him George; and a 
sensible, faithful horse he proved to me. 

It is astonishinsr how a horse becomes attached to 



86 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

his master, under kind treatment. There were never 
better friends than George and I. He seemed to 
depend on me as much as I depended on him. If 
ever he cut a caper a little tormenting to his mas- 
ter, he seemed immediate!}^ to repent by showing a 
fondling disposition. He was to me what Buceph- 
alus was to Alexander — a dear horse indeed. This 
little tribute of respect 1 pay here because it is due 
to that faithful old servant. He was much attached 
to his master, as well as his master to him. 



On the Missions— Mr New Title. 
]S"ow, being fully equipped, in the month of No- 
vember, facing a stiff Texas Korther, I started for my 
first appointment. This was in a little village but re- 
cently sprung up. I arrived on the evening before 
my appointment to preach. It was soon whispered 
around that the 7iew preacher had come. Here, for 
the first time, I was called " Parson." It did sound 
so strange and queer to me. It is a little word, and 
to be known by such an epithet appeared to dry 
up the fountain of my pleasure, especially when it 
Avas the manner of all whom I met to shower it on 
me. "Good-morning, parson. Well, parson, they 
have sent you to a big work. How do you think 
you can stand it out here on these large missions, 
parson? You have a fine-looking horse, parson ; do 
you w^ant to swap him? " Ofi" to one side, the same 
uncomfortable word could be heard ringing on the 
morning and evening air. Listen : " The parson is a 
young-looking man. Do you know what State the 
parson is from? Don't you think the parson is 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 87 

pretty good-looking? " "0 dear! " tbouglit I, " does 
the Methodist circuit-rider have to stand all this? " 
I have given the foregoing specimens, as indica- 
tive of the manner in which the new handle to my 
name was used. How much more preferable is Mis- 
ter, or Brother. IIow I wished for the day when this 
uncouth, degenerate epithet should be lost to the 
world! 

Mr First Sermon on the Missions — Singing — 
''Brother Jesse'' — Frontier Meeting-house. 

But now the day, the hour arrived in which I was 
to make my first effort publicly, as a circuit-rider. 
I had preached three or four times, to be sure, before 
going to Conference, but then not with the pressure 
of responsibility I now felt. I went to the house of 
just the character all frontiersmen first have, and of 
which they are always proud — a house of about 
eighteen by twenty-four feet, with board window- 
shutters to close off the cold; a door cut just any- 
where a man ma}^ happen first to strike; a punch- 
eon floor, and split logs mounted on legs for benches. 
A house to be used on all occasions, public or 
otherwise; for it w^as never known to have a key. 
In it the preacher preached, the boys held their 
polemics, the master taught, the clown exhibited, 
and the immigrant camped. On Sunday it looked a 
little tidy, or otherwise, according to the weather 
and the manner in which it had just previously been 
occupied. But having been a frontiersman two or 
three years, I could endure almost any thing, whether 
I liked it or not. 



88 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

I took my position in one corner, the observed of 
all observers. I wanted to sing. I would have given 
any thing to sing well; but this had been an accom- 
plishment neglected in my education, mainly be- 
cause my voice w^as hard to train. Said I, " Will 
some one please give us a voluntary song?" They 
looked at one another, but gave no response to me. 
I heard one, however, say: "Jesse, lead out. You 
can beat any one singing round here, Uncle Tom 
says." But neither Jesse nor any one else led out. 
I fully appreciated the responsibility of the young 
preacher. I could in a sort of way sing a few of the 
old familiar hymns. I sung one of these in the sort 
of way I was able, and as best I could — a few old 
ladies throwing in their interludes w^henever their 
ideas and mine agreed. We sung it through. It 
sometimes awakened looks of surprise, but more 
frequently pleasant smiles. This converted Jesse. 
He was no longer ashamed nor afraid to sing. In- 
deed he lost no time, for scarcely had mine and, the 
old ladies' voices died away when he snatched up 
another hymn, in a voice far more stentorian and 
musical, and in which many joined. I felt heartily 
ashamed of myself, yet I was glad Jesse lived, and 
had the power through song of linking himself so 
close to me. "Jesse," thought T, " I will make you 
a leader here." I then looked down on my text 
while the singing went on. 

It w^as not long before I was up before the people 
announcing my text: "Choose you this day whom 
ye will serve." (Joshua xxiv. 15.) I regard that 
and all similar texts to this day very well suited to 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 89 

beginners in the ministry. They are at liberty to 
dwell and comment ^liicli on the appertaining his- 
tory, and thereby very much evade the oljstructions 
of the gospel — a business pertaining to riper years 
and a deeper acquaintance with the word. I closed 
my sermon, as I thought, very well. At least I felt 
a pleasure, a calm satisfaction, and a full determina- 
tion to go on with the ministry. I was about to 
dismiss the congregation, when some one suggested 
the propriety of an evening service at the residence 
of Brother Daily. As it was now my business to 
preach, and as I felt flushed with victory, and a joy- 
ful complacency over my sermon just finished, I took 
pleasure in making the appointment accordingly. 



The Evening Service and the Fruits it Bore. 
In the shades of the evening, the people began to 
assemble at Brother Daily's, and I among them. The 
veritable Jesse was there; thanks to his good soul! 
My text on this occasion was the first Psalm. I felt 
a consciousness that I would succeed. I counted on 
nothing else. I am satisfied, however, that my reli- 
ance was too much in the virtue of my own powers. 
I did not feel the humility necessary to successful 
preaching. I began — I thought I was doing well — I 
soon discovered myself keyed too high in voice. The 
thought embarrassed me — I was running at too many 
knots an hour. I tried to work myself into more de- 
liberation. I felt a heavy pressure. I imagined my 
congregation sympathized. It was a shock on my 
nerves. I could not recover. A film came over my 
eyes. Things looked dark around me. I found my- 



90 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

self stammering. I knew I was stumbling. I would 
retreat but for the disgrace. I tried to rally, but I 
could not recover. I would, but I could n't. I tried, 
but I did n't. I was talking away, but I did n't see 
the point. I was up, but I wanted to be down. I 
was there, but I wanted to be away. I would quit, 
but it was too soon. I would go on, but I had noth- 
ing to say. "O how shall I get out of this sad 
trouble?" thought I. Just then — O fortunate in- 
deed! — my eyes, through the film of my understand- 
ing, fell on the noble Jesse. O what a relief! Sitting 
down in the deepest sympathy for myself, mortified 
and slain, in the deepest humility, I said, "Brother 
Jesse, please sing." 

Jesse was ready. In a twinkling he was at it, as 
if making up for all lost time. Thus it went — Jesse 
sung. Some joined in with him; others looked 
about. I was sad. But by and by the song is fin- 
ished. The service is concluded with prayer, and 
the congregation is dismissed. I staid with Brother 
Daily. ^ 

O what a fix I was in! The people were talk- 
ing about things as usual. I wondered why they 
were not talking about my sermon on the first Psalm. 
" How could they be thinking about any thing else? " 
was the wonder with me. I wanted some one to 
talk to me about my sermon and failure. It would 
give me a chance to apologize. I was willing for 
anybody to call it a failure. It w^ould be foolish to 
render any other verdict. I felt ashamed to intro- 
duce the subject myself. Even Jesse, for whom I was 
feeling a warm afiection, was gone. "Ah ! " thought 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 91 

I, "I atii resolved what I will do; when the morning 
comes, I will saddle up George, and I will turn his 
head oft' these missions. I will not stultify myself 
with this kind of doing. Before everybody linds 
how big a fool I am, I will retire where my friend 
is on my little ranch, and either in comparative ob- 
scurity pursue the avocation of a small stockman, or 
else go to the law again." With this resolve lirmly 
iixed in my mind, I retired, not to rest, but to pon- 
der human life witli its uprisings and its down- 
goings. 

In an adjoining room, several young people were 
engaged in conversation. I heard my name called, 
or rather the inevitable "Parson" I have already 
mentioned. I laid my ear close to the wall and list- 
ened, if ever mortal listened here below. I wanted 
to hear the verdict. I was anxious to hear their 
sport. Hush! listen! ''The parson looks young, 
does n't he?" " Yes, he is just starting in the min- 
istr3\ The sermon he preached to-night is good for 
a young preacher. He'll make his mark." "Is it 
possible?'^ thought I. Yes, these are only a few of 
the private sentiments I heard that night through 
the board wall between us. My whole being became 
revolutionized by this providence. I had been " cast 
down, but not destroyed." " No, I will not play the 
truant. I will plow furrows through these missions. 
I have the respect of the people remaining with me 
yet, and I will not forsake them. I will go, by, the 
grace of God; I will go in prayer and in tears; I will 
go in courage and in meekness; I will go because 
the Master calls, and his providences are over me; 



92 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

and as I go I will preach the riches of Heaven's grace 
to the comfort of every heart." I always since have 
looked back to the struggle I had that night with 
pleasure. I learned in it how the Lord wants his 
ministers to be of humble mind, and how his prov- 
idences work to the proiit of the soul and to useful- 
ness in his kingdom. Again, I often think how 
narrowly I escaped the danger. Had I deserted my 
post, as I resolved, there is no telling the ruin into 
which I might have fallen. Under the new reflec- 
tions awakened in me, my rest became balmy and 
refreshing. 

Abe A OF THE Missions—Meeting with the Senior 
Preacher. 

These missions to which we were assigned, two in 
number, extended over a vast territory — bordering 
on Red River, and extending southward in the State 
about one hundred miles, with an average breadth 
of fort}^ miles. They had been traveled before, but 
not unitedly as now. Every year their area became 
increased to the full extent of the westward settle- 
ments. 

The senior preacher with whom I was assigned 
I met within a few days after my first experience on 
the work. He was a man that took life easy, was 
well adapted to Western life, easily accommodated 
himself to circumstances, and had been for several 
years a missionary among the Indians. He was a 
man of good soul, devout, but not sufliciently culti- 
vated so as to form a man of manners, constituting a 
good model for the 3'Oung man to lay off a pattern by. 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 93 

The manner of arranging the mission work for 
the year was to make the " round" of it a six weeks 
appointment. Inasmuch as we were without a plan, 
it lay in such a condition as necessitated a reorgani- 
zation of it altogether. Hence, he took one-half of 
it and gave to me the other half, each to organize 
his half in three weeks and submit a plan to the 
other. This we did, and we were but little together 
during the year. Following each other's plans of 
organization, we each traveled the entire work in 
SIX weeks, always three weeks apart, and giving 
every congregation a service every three weeks, 
statedly. So that in three weeks the work was 
fully organized, subject, however, to some changes 
which followed as our acquaintance with the work 
became more thorough. Wherever we went we left 
an appointment to be back ourselves in six weeks, 
and each for the other in three weeks. Many places 
needed the gospel which had not received it. I soon 
discovered the progressive character of Methodism. 
^o other denomination of Christians was pushing so 
much to the front and with such persistent energy. 

Character of the People. 
Wherever I went I was kindly taken in; and 
though a stranger, the comforts of the cabin or 
camp-fire were cheerfully divided, and to me was 
given a share. The people were generally poor, but 
exceedingly kind. They had not received much of 
the gospel, yet were disposed to be religious. They 
were rather uncouth in dress and manners, but they 
had good hearts and stout courao-e. Some had 



94 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

herds of cattle and horses that subsisted on the 
spontaneous pasturage of the country. Generally, 
the soil was not much cultivated. To take them all 
in all, they were as clever people as you will find 
anywhere, but greatly lacking in advantages. If 
they could afford no acconmiodation, it was not for 
the want of a heart, but of the means. They were 
inured to hardships; never boasted of what they 
had; never complained of their want. They were 
just the class of people to go forward in a new 
country. They prepared the way for complete 
civilization, and stood between it and the red man, 
the buffalo and the bear. They were a pioneering 
people, courted danger, loved the freedom of frontier 
life, and moved on ahead of all general improve- 
ment. With them neither fashion nor diet changed 
the year round. Their removals were all toward the 
West. They complained of being hampered when 
the settlement became a little dense, and that the 
range for their stock was wasting away. 8uch was 
the character of the people on the missions, and 
such was the character of most of the border peo- 
ple. 

Exp EC TA TioN Bla s ted — DiSG us T. 
On the eastern border of these missions lived a 
Methodist minister — a man of considerable experi- 
ence in the ministry. I congratulated myself when 
I was approaching his section of the country. I 
counted on having a pleasant and profitable night 
with him. I thought he could give me much in- 
formation about the missions such as I needed. Be- 



FIVE YEARS IX THE WEST. 95 

sides, 1 hoped to get mucli information from him 
about how to study, prepare sermons, preach, and 
conduct m3'self generally as a young minister; for 
I reminded myself of a young bird in its nest, and 
while I was ready and willing to apply myself, I 
was anxious to receive from my seniors any crumbs 
of instruction which might fall from their lips. I 
did not find, however, in this brother such as I 
would, and consequently I failed to realize in his 
house the pleasure I anticipated. He was quite 
ignorant of the missions to which I was sent, and, 
as I thought, of missionary work generally. Instead 
of being an exemplar generally, he picked his teeth 
at the table with his fork — which act, under your 
training, dear mother, was so disgusting to me that 
I never felt disposed to repeat my visit at that house 
again. Yet, as my patience was so exercised in 
sermonizing, I thought surely this brother could 
help me a little, and consequently I asked him for 
advice. This he was very ready to give. Said he: 
" I would recommend thnt you commit three or four 
of Wesley's sermons and preach them. Out of these, 
by hunting texts to suit by properly dividing up, 
you may make yourself eight or ten; and that is 
about as many as a man needs. Whenever he 
preaches he can preach one of these; but frequently 
an exhortation will answer every purpose." 

Which disgusted me most — this instruction, or 
the act at the table — I am not able to say. The 
whole of it was mortifying to my flesh and repulsive 
to my nature, "xire we to regard all manhood clean 
gone?" thought T. "Are we to class ourselves with 



96 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

plagiarists, parrots, and mimics — only speaking the 
words of others — and when we die leave the world 
just where w^e found it? " " ]^o, mj brother," said I, 
"your advice I cannot take; I cannot be recreant to 
the instruction of a mother who always exhorted me 
to true manhood. I am no rogue; I will not plagia- 
rize as you recommend. * Sink or swim, live or die, 
survive or perish,' go up or down, preach or fail, I 
will make my own sermons." The brother, upon 
this announcement, delivered earnestly and em- 
phatically, appeared at a loss for a reply. I must 
say such a spontaneity was not usual with me then. 
It only broke like a bursting dam from my mind 
and heart under a keen sense of disgust. 

I have since known a few other preachers who 
repudiated self-reliance and depended on others. 
But I am satisfied that it would be best for all to 
spend more time in investigating than in com- 
mitting. There is more of true manhood in it. It 
is a blessing to have a good memory; but if it works 
the evil in the person possessing it of plagiarizing 
and of depending on it altogether, it proves a curse. 
Wesley's, Watson's, and other sermons I would by 
no means undervalue. They may be profitable in a 
reading course, but in form and style are not best 
adapted to reach men's hearts in this age. Young 
men should be trained to investigate, grapple with 
problems, look into the philosophy of the people's 
minds, and from close thinking, more than from 
memory, build their sermons in that form which 
obtains the best hearing and rebukes the most 
present evils. 



• five years in the west. 97 

Buncombe County Illustbated — Fubtheb 
Comment. 
I had not been on the missions many days when 
one day in dusky eve I came upon the residence of 
Brother Jones, a Methodist, and a farmer away 
ahead of sluj I had seen, so far as I had yet traveled 
the work. He reminded me much of my boyhood 
days. lie was the owner of a dozen or more slaves, 
and between him and them existed perfect harmony. 
Sister Jones was the most motherly woman whom 
I had met. Brother Jones, Sister Jones, and one 
single daughter, comprised the family of ivhifes. The 
other children were married and gone to themselves. 
I was kindly requested to make their house my 
head-quarters, or my home, while on the work. This 
I very gratefully accepted; and though I knew I 
could not impend much time with them, yet there 
was a place I could call home, and a good woman 
whom in heart I could call mother. The taste dis- 
played by this family, their lines of thought, and 
their conversation, were congenial to my nature, and 
tended to intellectual and spiritual elevation. Now, 
this well-to-do farmer lived in a very rugged portion 
of the country. It presented just such a face as is 
least pleasing to the eye. He lived on a hill, yet 
from his residence vision was soon eclipsed by other 
hills and brush-wood in every direction. He never 
saw the sun rise, and just as unfrequently saw it set. 
Between him and the hills around were deep-cut 
ravines, and along their margins could be seen, 
corners of his fields. The line of his fencing took 
direction according to the shape of the hills and the 



98 FIVE YEARS IX THE WEST. 

course of the rivulets meandering between. It 
made no difference in what direction you found 
yourself from his residence, there was but one way 
of mounting the hill to get to it. You always ap- 
proached it by a single way, and with much circum- 
locution. Indeed, it was a wonder to me why such 
a selection for a home should be made in a new 
country at so early a day, when immigrants had 
such choice, and especially by one who was finan- 
cially — like Saul, son of Kish, was physically — head 
and shoulders above all the rest. 

"Brother Jones," said I, "where are you from?" 
" From Buncombe county, E"orth Carolina," said he. 
" Well," said I, " considering your finances and pos- 
sibilities, it seems very strange to me that you, after 
traveling all the way here from the Atlantic coast, 
should make such a selection as this for a home. 
What inspiration drove you to this, Brother Jones? " 
Said he: "I will give you a sketch of my history, 
and then you will understand how it has come to 
pass as you find it. For many years, while in my 
Buncombe home, I had from time to time been hear- 
ing beautiful things of Texas lands and of the beauti- 
ful prairies. Long before I left my Buncombe liome 
I had a desire to see and live in a country where 
hills were scarce. At last my desire ripened into 
my removal to the West. When I saw the beauti- 
ful, gradually undulating prairies of Texas, with 
their rich soil and grazing herds, I thought every 
now and then that I would stop, drive a stake, find 
the owner, and make a purchase. But I went on 
until I, from some cause which I do not understand, 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 99 

paid out my money for this place; and since I have 
improved it and looked over it, I tind no place in 
Texas that looks more like my old Buncombe home- 
stead than this." "Ah ! Brother Jones," said I, '' we 
understand it; there is no helping human nature; 
we natural!}^ love the old homestead; we think 
sometimes that we do not, and quit it in disgust. 
Yet we want the orchard in the same direction, the 
barn and the spring. We want a like appearance 
of hills and woods, and brooks and vales. On ac- 
count of these we sometimes leave the old home, 
seeking another view and a better fortune; but as 
we settle again, our old love returns, and ere we are 
aware we find ourselves, like you, in another Bun- 
combe home. Love of home, hke patriotism, dwells 
inherent." 

Now, there are many men in the world like 
Brother Jones. It may not be the prominent old 
homestead in every case; yet they have left the dear 
old home and gone far away, seeking a better fort- 
une. Ere they are aware they have lost oppor- 
tunities and paid out their money, and when they 
cast their eyes about have no advantages over the 
old homestead. I was traveling some years ago far 
to the south-west of the missions. The ground was 
parched, the day was hot, and I was longing to find 
water for the comfort of both myself and my horse; 
the country all along presenting no strange con- 
trast with that about Brother Jones's, but every 
little rivulet-bed was dry. After several hours' fa- 
tigue, thirst, and weariness, I finally came to a habi- 
tation. Here I was in the midst of hills, woods, and 



100 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

naked knobs. I was just about to congratulate my- 
self on drawing near to the habitation when my 
pleasure began to wane, for my eyes had fallen on 
the historical ''sled and barrel^' that indicated 
"water scarce." A number of pleasant and seem- 
ingly happy faces in the way of children were soon 
exhibited to the traveler, who rarely passed through 
that country, and among them the genial proprietor, 
a man perhaps forty years of age. "How do you 
do, sir? " said I to the proprietor, whom I had now 
approached, and whose face, being all sunshine, in- 
dicated that he was by no means a man of moody 
turn. "Yer}^ well, I thank you. How is ^^ourself?" 
" Thirsty, sir, thirsty, both myself and horse. What 
is the chance for a slake? " " Pretty good for your- 
self," said he, "^mt not for your horse; my depend- 
ence is on that barrel.'' "I am a little sorry for my 
horse's sake," said I; "however, sir, I will try and 
make the most of it, and thank you. But what 
country are you from, my friend ? " " From Mary- 
land," said he. "How long have you been here?" 
"About six years." "Have you any neighbors?" 
"Yes, sir." "How far away are they?" "About 
four miles." "Have you any churches or school- 
houses near you?" "None nearer than eight miles." 
"How far do you haul your water?" "About four 
miles these dry times." "Have you any preaching 
near you ? " " We have had it a few times at neigh- 
bor Ruskin's since I have lived here." "What de- 
nomination?" " The Methodist." "I see you liave 
some clever- looking boys. Are you educating 
them?" He gave me a wondering, sorrowful look 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 101 

and made no reply. Said I: "My friend, I think 
you have come a long way to make a mistake. Look 
well to those clever looking boys. Thank yon, sir, 
for the water." I bid him good-by, and rode on 
in my meditations. 

Brother Jones Again— My Lesson from Sister 
Jones. 
But I must come back to my good Brother Jones. 
The next morning as I was saddling George, Brother 
Jones came to me and asked if I knew it was a little 
hazardous to travel the missions. I told him that I 
supposed it was on account of marauding bands of 
Indians. I further stated that I would thank him 
for any advice he could give me. By this time we 
were in his house again, and ready for a little talk, 
as I intended before I left. Sister Jones had been 
w^atching my maneuvering, and had all things ready 
for a parting prayer before I left. She placed a 
chair by the stand on which the Bible ahvays lay, 
and nodded to her husband, who immediately invited 
me to pray with them before I mounted my horse. 
I had just prayed with them before breakfast, and 
now to crowd another prayer immediately on break- 
fast appeared to me to be wedging breakfast pretty 
close on both sides. It partook richly, as I thought, 
of the Presbyterian style of grace — a blessing of 
consecration upon and thanks after. I remember 
once since in my life when our Annual Conference 
and a Presbyterian Synod were held contempo- 
raneously in the same town, several Presbyterian 
ministers and I had got assignment to board at the 



102 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

same house, the proprietor of which was a Presby- 
terian himself. Very unexpectedly to me, and per- 
haps unfortunately, before retiring from the table I 
was called on to return thanks. I have always 
doubted whether I made a good " hit." It was one 
of the acts of my life done in blindness, and I have 
never been able to recall the service. I may hear 
from it yet some day, for no doubt but that it was 
good enough to impress the memories of my good 
Presbyterian friends and the polite proprietor. But 
I prayed immediately after breakfast, according to 
invitation, with Brother Jones, Sister Jones, young 
Miss Jones, and a few of the servants who were re- 
maining about the house. One verse in the lesson 
I read impressed me deeply: "Pray without ceas- 
ing." I never thought afterward that I could crowd 
my prayers too much. Said I: " Sister Jones, I am 
glad you arranged for prayer before I left. I believe 
it has done me good." I then referred her to the 
text, "Pray without ceasing." "Why," said she, 
" my good young brother, have 3^ou not been praying 
w^ith the families with whom you stopped, just be- 
fore leaving them?" "l^o. Sister Jones," said I 
thoughtfully. " Suppose there is no arrangement 
made, and I am not invited?" Said she: " My 3^oung 
brother, you must pray in the families of our people, 
and it matters not how often; at least, always leave 
a parting blessing. I put out the Bible through 
custom. I knovv no other way. Ah!" said she, 
continuing, "you have a high office now. Do thou 
only magnify it. You are to mold not only your 
own cliaracter as a minister of Christ, but you are 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. lOo 

to help mold the character of our people. When- 
ever you find the custom wrong, change it for some- 
thing hetter. Do it by all means. Do it in a gentle- 
manly, Christian way. :N'obody will fiill out with 
you for it; but they will love you the more. Just 
keep yourself in a devotional spirit, and you will 
succeed; you need not fear. When Mr. Jones and 
I were young and in our Carolina home, I remem- 
ber well in pleasant memory how Bishop Andrew, 
then young like ourselves and you are now, often 
visited our home. He was a blessing to our house, 
and never left without a parting prayer. He tauo-ht 
me how to keep my Bible always ready." This was 
enough. I was encouraged. I resolved to pray 
wherever I w^ent, and above all to leave a parting 
benediction. 

"Now," said Brother Jones, "I propose to talk 
to you about the missions before you leave. But I 
see you have no gun. I think it might serve you a 
good purpose." "Brother Jones," said I, "do you 
think that I am preparing to light the Indians ? Do 
you see that black horse out yonder? That is a 
regularly trained race -horse; quick to start, yet 
easily guided and checked. I traded for him on 
purpose for the missions. I believe in buildin<r 
storm retreats, m using lightning-rods, in getting 
out from under falling trees, and in riding a flee\ 
horse when exposed to the Indians. I incorporate 
in my theology this principle— that we are to use 
all means in our power for safety, and that God in- 
terposes only when we are reduced to extremity." 
"That is all good philosophy and good theology; 



104 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

yet you do not go far enough with it," said Brother 
Jones. "Do you not know that nothing is more 
pleasing to the Indians than fleeing away from them, 
and that nothing gives them hetter opportunity? 
They seize upon this advantage readily and eagerly. 
More people have been scalped in this way than in 
any other. On open, even ground, from Avhat you 
say, you would not be caught unless by accident; 
and yet accidents, you know, do sometimes happen. 
Do you not know that in the brush-wood and on 
some ground your race-horse would not have much 
advantage over a horse slower in his motion; in- 
deed, none over a trained Indian pon3^ Again, it is 
characteristic of the Indian to press his foe to the 
life when fleeing, on the ground that he is always 
impressed that only unarmed men flee away. But 
an Indian's life is as sweet to him as yours is to you, 
and he is even more careful to preserve it. When- 
ever he sees a white man he hides himself away. 
The sight of a gun or the dreaded six-shooter are 
both terrors alike to him. JN'ow, in case of accident, 
or on the ground of standing, you must have some- 
thing to defend yourself with, or you may lose your 
life; and if lose it you must, it will be a pleasant 
recollection to your friends that you died with your 
Bible in your pocket, your gun in your hand, and 
your face to the foe." " Well, Brother Jones," said 
I, "that is all very beautiful, and I see I did not go 
far enough with my philosophy. I believe I ought 
to have a gun, or at least a six-shooter, which is far 
more convenient." "But," said Brother Jones, 
"you must not think the Indians are sfoinc: to in- 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 105 

vacle the settlements for the avowed purpose of kill- 
ing the people, for that would be war indeed. They 
do, however,! believe, have some old prejudices, and 
are ready to be revenged at any moment. They 
may make mistakes in such a case; and when 
laboring under disappointment, they are not very 
careful about it any way. Their character is tolind 
revenge ; and if they cannot find the objects of their 
hate, they slay the innocent. But their present pur- 
pose is to steal horses. They sometimes come as 
marauding bands into my ow^n vicinity. Kot long 
since they carried out about one hundred head of 
horses. I believe your mission work extends to Red 
River, and as far west as there are settlements, which 
is at least forty miles farther on the frontier. I 
would advise you by all means to be soldierly, and 
make the full round; and if you will accept it, I 
will lend you a six-shooter." "I thank you, Brother 
Jones, for all this information, and for the loan of 
the six-shooter. I will get mine which I have below 
and return yours in about six weeks." " If you 
do n't get scalped, and turn it over to the Indians," 
interluded he, in a half witty and half tempting 
way. To this I made no reply. "Now mind you," 
said he, "for while the Indians may not be after 
you, yet if you happen on them, they may try to 
put you out of the w^ay. They slip in slyly, and 
will leave no living w^itnesses of their presence if 
they can help it when on one of their marauding 
excursions." 



106 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

An Illustrative Anecdote. 
I rose to my feet, buckled Brother Jones's six- 
shooter around me, and cast my eyes over toward Sis- 
ter Jones, thinking may be time was up for prayers 
again; but she gave no token to Brother Jones, and 
I did not insist. Good-by, Brother Jones; good- 
by, Sister Jones; good-by. Miss Eussie; good-by to 
old Aunt Silva, the negro nurse. Out again on 
George, and toward the front. I did not go out, 
however, with all the notions of an old Baptist pio- 
neer preacher, of wdiom I have heard, in the State 
of Missouri. To be sure, we .were both a sort of 
circuit-riders. lie carried his gun and I a six-shoot- 
er, but he with more notions than myself. His wife 
observed him one day over-anxious about his gun , and 
carefully preparing it before starting on his pioneer 
round of preaching. She, having drank in the Bap- 
tist sentiment of God's providences, thought the old 
gentlemen, her husband, was unnecessarily troubling 
himself over things appointed and inevitable at any 
rate, said: "Why, Mr. Glannell, do you trouble 
3^ourself so much about your gun? Do 3'ou not 
know that if the Indians come upon you, and your 
time has come, the gun will do you no good?" 
"0 yes," said Mr. Glannell, "that is all very true 
\imy time has come — I understand all that perfectly; 
but see here, Becca, suppose I come upon an Indian 
and his time has come, what could I do without the 
gun?" Now, I did not have so many notions, nor 
did I in arming myself have my religion so inter- 
woven in the act. I did not at all carry a six-shooter 
to visit Heaven's decrees on the Indians, but simply 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 107 

for personal safety, believing, as I do, that God re- 
quires us to avail ourselves of all possible means for 
the preservation, of our lives. 



A Portion of Country Described. 
I had now entered the Upper Cross Timbers, a 
belt of woods dipping down into the State from Red 
Kiver, for a long distance. These woods are about 
sixteen miles wide, but not regularly tha,t width. 
They are composed mainly of post-oak and black- 
jack, all of which is a dwarf growth in comparison 
with these sturdy oaks of Kentucky. In many places 
this woodland district presents a half-open appear- 
ance, so that in the main it is not difficult to traverse. 
Here and there mats of prairies may be seen, especi- 
ally on the lower grounds and valleys — except at the 
very margins of the streams, where the brush-wood is 
very dense in most places. Here I found wild-turkeys 
very abundant, and in the unsettled portions not much 
afraid of man. Deer, bear, and panthers were deni- 
zens of these woods. The people here rarely ever 
lived remote from each other. They formed, as they 
called them, settlements, or neighborhoods. They 
did this as a necessary defense against the Indians. If 
their horses should be stolen, they could sometimes 
in a few hours collect together in order to give chase, 
inflict the deserving penalty on the miscreants^ and 
recover their stolen property. These people had sent* 
out parties among the buffalo just before my arrival. 
The proceeds of the hunt had been divided around. 
Wherever I went, I saw buffalo-rugs, and on the table 
dried, or, as they called it, "jerked buffalo-flesh." 



108 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

Coffee— How I Remedied an Evil. 
In the West, I had always up to this time been 
used to coffee, especially for breakfast; but in trav- 
eling and organizing this mission work, I found that 
I not only had to deny myself, but that compelling 
circumstances denied me of sinless luxuries. I had 
heard old ladies say if they did not get their cup of 
coffee for breakfast they would have the headache. 
One morning, while traveling as usual, a very severe 
and unexpected headache had come on me. I was 
at a loss to account for it. I thought I was going to 
be suddenly sick, and was in mental distress about 
it; for above all things I wanted health, and to 
make this my lirst year in the ministry a useful one. 
Coming up to a house about eleven o'clock, I got 
permission to stop awhile, on the ground of being 
sick. The lady of the house was very kind, and 
when I made known that I was a preacher, sent out 
on the border of the settlements, she made manj^ 
inquiries about whether I was accustomed to such 
spells and how long I had been unwell. I answered 
her promptly, as best I could. She asked me if my 
diet was not different from that I had been accustomed 
to. I told her it was, but that I had felt no incon- 
venience on that score. She said: "Do you drink 
coffee V I answered : " I do when I am well." She 
said again: "Have you had coffee since you have 
been traveling the missions?" Said I: "I have, ex- 
cept for breakfast to-day." Said she, in a knowing 
way: "Jennie, put on the coffee-pot. I know what 
is the matter with this young preacher." Coffee 
was soon made. I drank and was soon relieved. 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 109 

When I had to confess this physical weakness, I felt 
very much ashamed of myself. I felt much humbled, 
but thanked God that my malady was so slight. I 
thanked this kind lady for her attention, and thouglit 
she deserved a much better reward than I could give. 
I spoke to her husband and said: "My dear sir, if 
it meets with your approbation, we will offer prayer 
in your family before we leave. Said he: " Why, a 
preacher has never been with us before, and we have 
been here two years. We do not belong to the 
Church, but we believe in praying. Certainly, pray 
with us." I did pray, and with a full soul. When 
T left, my most pious benedictions remained with 
that famil}^ My mind went back in fond memory 
of good Sister Jones, who had inspired me with this 
courage. 

Several times I through necessity suffered with 
this wretched headache. I found a remedy, how- 
ever, and at small cost. The saddle-bags are the 
treasury department of the Methodist circuit-rider. 
Down among my books and papers, one day, I 
slipped a small sack of parched coffee. Not many 
days passed away before I had the opportunity of 
testing its virtue. Breakfast being served without 
coffee, I had not gone far before I had my little sack 
of parched coffee out, and was chewing and eating 
the grains. To m}^ great comfort, I had very little 
headache that day. If I had been older, I should 
have been perhaps a little more public in the use 
of the coft'ee I carried with me, and have troubled 
the families to prepare it; yet I could not find it 
in my heart, young and inexperienced as I was, to 



110 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

reflect on the diet they gave me, by saying, in pre- 
senting another article, that they might have had 
better. I made it a rnle to partake of what they 
gave me, and " ask no questions for conscience' sake," 
nor did I ever ask for more. My own way of cur- 
ing a "thorn in my flesh " I kept to myself. As to 
the mere luxury of eating, I cared less for it than at 
any period of my life. I only wanted enough, and it 
of a kind that would make me feel well ; for my " meat 
and drink" was to do the will of Him who had called 
me, and enrolled me in the high oflice of the ministry. 



Meeting with an Old Greek Grammar. 
I found in making the first round — in which I 
had to survey out the country with my own eyes, 
and learn all of it I could from the people, in order 
to as complete an organization as possible — that I 
had but little time for reading, and for studying the 
books that belonged to the first year's course of study. 
I, therefore, was inclined to postpone this matter for 
awhile. It was, however, on this first round that I 
resolved on the study of the Greek language. I had 
in my school-days, as you are aware, given little at- 
tention to any other than the English language. I 
had some knowledge of the Latin, to be sure — at least 
enough to very cleverly take up the Greek. That 
which inspired me to the Greek is the importance 
of that language to the preacher; but that which 
inspired me to commence the study of that language 
under circumstances so peculiar, and at a time so 
unexpected, was the accidental discovery of an old 
Greek grammar, which was nearly whole. It looked 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. HI 

a little like it had straggled away from its proper 
country, but I thought it had as well be put to use. 
I got permission to drop it into my circuit treasury 
department; yet it looked a little oldish— bore a 
rather strange contrast as it lay by my coffee-sack, 
which but recently had found its own lodgment. 
This old book and my Bible were my constant com- 
panions in my first six weeks' campaign; but before 
I had returned to the village from which I started, 
I found I was striking tupto as best I could; but I 
found that tupto struck in so many moods and tenses, 
and in so many unlooked-for ways, that the battle 
became pretty hot between us; but I determined on 
the victory, and obtained it. 

Descriptions— Master Pa yton. 

It was about three weeks after I started, when I 
found myself at a beautiful mountain peak. This 
was a beautiful section of country on the western 
slope of the upper cross woods, having a surface 
gradually undulating. Here and there the higher 
grounds were overtopped with trees, either standing 
alone or in beautiful mats. But that which gave 
grandeur to the place, and which was the principal 
object of interest to the traveler, was the mountain 
peak, which rises so abruptly from the plain, and to 
such a height, that it gave much fatigue to reach 
the summit. 

Here I found seven families, all of whom depended 
on their herds for a living. This was the very border 
of the frontier. Here I found a stockade into which 
they could retreat in case of "Indian troubles," as 



112 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

they called it. I organized these people into a class, 
or congregation, and preached to them before I left. 
The people were less restive out here about the In- 
dians than thirty or forty miles farther in. They 
called this the frontier, and farther in ''the settle- 
ments;" yet many of those still more remote from 
this point regarded themselves on the frontier, for 
the reason that the Indians depredated in their sec- 
tions, though far east of the extreme border. 

The policy of the Indians, in the main, was not to 
molest the people living on the extreme border, for 
several reasons. They did not care to steal their 
cattle, because they had plenty of buffalo and other 
wild game, which they preferred and regarded more 
savory as a diet. They did not regard the cow- 
ponies as a very valuable stock, and this was the 
general character of the horse property on the bor- 
der. Again, they loved to keep the peace of the 
border people, and cultivated it with the view that 
they would be less diligent in watching, and there- 
fore, with this advantage, that they themselves could 
make inroads far into the settlements and bring out 
horses far more valuable than the cow-ponies along 
the border. 

I shall call attention to one family with Avhom I 
staid a night and part of a day. They very well 
illustrate the border people, with whom the rules of 
society and of family government are not very re- 
straining. This family was as kind as any one need 
want to be with, yet they had a very careless man- 
ner of entertaining strangers. The traveler was re- 
garded as capable of taking care of himself, and 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 113 

therefore they put themselves to little trouble to watch 
over him or attend to his wants. They made no bills 
against the general traveler, but parted with him by 
saying," Call again." Thestrangeror traveler among 
them was at liberty at any time to converse with 
them, or if he chose, read, stud}^ sit, stand, walk, or 
do any other reputable business, without the respect 
generally paid to the rules of decorum. With this 
family any thing was in order that the whim of 
any mind might set a-going; and yet it was very 
seldom that they all accorded into one mind. They 
presented very much the appearance of a variant 
buzz — each one for himself. They appeared to be 
born unto variety. In each one, large and small, 
existed and dwelt a natural independency of voli- 
tion as a kind of spontaneous production ingrafted 
in his nature by the freedom of the air he breathed. 
Toward the going down of the sun you might see 
three or four boys, from ten to thirteen years of age, 
romping and practicing with their lariats, looped in 
lasso fashion, either catching one another as they ran 
by or practicing on the calves in the pen. You might 
see a cow-boy or two, apparently in lonely mood, 
singing some nonsensical ditty or love song, with :i 
flippant motion of the head and reeling motion of 
body. Some one calling for one thing, another or- 
dering something else, interluded with the screams 
of a girl or two at the cow-pen, who, however, can 
never make any one understand what they want. 
The bleating of calves and lowing of cattle give a 
climax to the close of day that chime in equally mu- 
sical with all the rest. This is a faint picture, but 
8 



114 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

will suffice in some degree to give an idea of the 
noise, bustle, and confusion that closes the day in 
the family of a stock-raising man in the West, where 
there is little regard had for family government. On 
the frontier, where people depend on their herds, 
and do not cultivate the soil, there is never much 
restraint exercised by parents over their children, or 
over those whom they emplo}^ 

I made it a custom to talk with the children 
wherever I met with them. I naturally have an 
aptness in this way, and have seldom met with any 
whom I could not enlist. I never began with them 
too soberly, and with reproofs. I found it very con- 
venient to begin with schools and education. Nearly 
all boys feel an interest in these things, and will talk 
on these subjects readily. Several boys entered the 
room at one time, where I was engaged in reading, 
and appeared disposed to be still. I soon engaged 
them in conversation. I asked them if they had 
a school in their neighborhood. They answered 
in the negative. I asked them if they could read 
and write. They answered again iu the negative. 
One of them, about eleven years of age, and who 
led the others, said: "I can spell though." I let 
out to him several words of several syllables each, 
but to every one he shook his head. There was a 
little pause in our conversation, when he looked up 
inquiringly at me and asked why I did not give him 
''bakerr *'Ah! well," said I, ''then spell baker;" 
for I saw that first word of a child's ambition, who 
is taught in Webster, was held fondly in his mem- 
orv. He si)elled it after the fashion of a half tauHit 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 115 

child, unfortunately prolonging the key-r-ker on the 
last syllable. Our conversation here ended on day- 
schools and general education. 

My next step was to lead out on Sunday-schools. 
Said I, "Have you ever had a Sunday-school in this 
settlement? " "A Sunday-school ! " wonderingly said 
the talkative little Payton; "what is that?" I ex- 
plained how the people met with their children on 
Sunday, read the Bible and asked questions about it, 
continuing my remarks tosomelength ; to all of which 
Payton said: "We do n't have no such thing as that 
here. We rest on Sundays, though we work some- 
times; but jyajp says he would like to quit it, though 
he do n't know how he can, as long as he has got all 
these cattle. But I know he would not send us to 
such a school as that, for we have got more to do 
now on Sundays than he wants us to do." I saw at 
once that this lad had a very faint idea of what is 
meant by a Sunday-school. He looked upon it as 
nmch a perversion of the Sabbath as hunting, mark- 
ing, and branding cattle. He estimated it as work, 
and therefore a desecration of the day, on that account. 

I now led off in a catechising lecture, in which I 
assumed how the power of God was displayed in the 
creation ; how he formed the earth. I was going to 
say more, but the keen-witted and quick-speaking 
Payton interrupted me before I had finished. He 
had been used to putting in a word whenever he 
chose, and of excepting to any thing he disliked. 
Said he, "Did you say that one man made this 
world ? " alluding, as I perceived, to the earth. " No, 
Payton," I said; "God nuule the world." " Well,'' 



116 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

said he, "ain't he just one?" "Yes, Pay ton," said 
I; "he is one, but he is not a man." To this the 
marvelous little Payton replied that "no one man 
and no one any thing else made the world. All the 
men in this country could n't make the mountain 
peak, standing out yonder." Just then, I heard one 
of them in a drawling tone say: "Ko, they could n't, 
for it 's too big." 

I saw at once that little Payton had th.e victory, 
according to the judges, who had been attentively 
listening. I had to give it up. I had more than 
my match. The yoke these lads put upon my neck 
was galling me. The want of more definite ideas 
of God and the skepticism that had crept into their 
young minds were evidently the fruits of parental neg- 
lect. O that parents could realize the great impor- 
tance of properly instructing and training their chil- 
dren ! It is a business far more important than rear- 
ing herds and building barns. What a charge will 
come against some of them in the great day for 
neglecting to teach their children in the paths in 
which they should walk! 

No one is satisfied with defeat. I felt a determi- 
nation to try and regain some of my lost honors. I 
wanted to get even with this little imp of a skeptic. 
He had routed me on two fields. Said I, "Payton, 
what do you do of Sundays? " " We do n't do much 
of any thing now," said he, "but when it's warm 
weather, we brand the calves and ^^earlings till din- 
ner that the boys have been hunting through the 
week." Here he stopped. "But, Payton," said I, 
"what do you do after dinner?" "Well," said he, 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 117 

"you see, pap and the boys are tired, and they leave 
it to me and Bill and Tom to drive the cattle outen 
the pens. If you ever seen fun, then we have it. 
You see, when we pull down the bars, we lix some 
rails and things so the cattle can't see us; then I'll 
lay down under the bars and things with a sharp 
stick, and then tell Bill and Tom to drive one at 
a time, and just as he jumps over, I stick him un- 
der, and he says ba; and they keep driving until I 
miss one, then it's Bill's time; and when he misses 
one, then it's Tom's time; but I always make more 
of them say ba than Bill and Tom both." I had but 
one more feeble shaft. I concluded to let it fly and 
quit the field. Said I, "Payton, how can you tell 
when you make a miss? " " Why, you see," said he, 
" we always count it a miss when she do n't say ba." 
What he meant by she was one of the cattle. 

I concluded to have no more talk with the boys 
while I remained in the vicinity of the mountain 
peak, and more especially with the remarkable Pay- 
ton, whose history, if it were known up to the pres- 
ent time, would in all probability lay the foundation 
for an attractive romance. I have often wished that 
I had a picture of that remarkable and peculiar boy; 
not, however, for my own enjoyment, for he stereo- 
typed his image on my memory, but that I might 
show it to others; but whatever enjoyment there 
may be in it to others is lost, for being no painter 
myself I cannot copy it. JSTow, dear mother, I hope 
you will by no means thitik that I am trying to 
make a hero of the inimitable little Payton. I saw 
your occasional smiles under the narration, yet, be- 



118 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

lieve me, I have the same virtuous lips with which 
you launched me out on manhood's stage. 

I left the vicinity of this mountain peak, to be 
back again in six weeks. I felt resolved to try an- 
other battle with Pa3^ton on my return. You know, 
you raised me with pluck to the bone, and never to 
quit my foe as long as I. was the under dog. But 
this one I never met again, and probably well enough 
too, for such a frontier boy as Payton is as unabat- 
ing in true courage as load-stone is in attraction, and 
neither wnll ever let steel alone. But I never saw 
this young hero again, yet I visited the vicinity of 
the mountain peak regularly every six weeks dur- 
ing the year. This hero of a boy, though, was al- 
ways out after cattle or on some other mission; but 
wherever he w^as, I have no doubt that he was mak- 
ing history. 

/ / Preaching in a Frontier ^Dwelling-house — How 
THE People go to Preaching on the Frontier. 

I, having opportunity, had sent forward an ap- 
pointment to the head-waters of a creek, away to 
the south-west of the county-town that had but re- 
cently been located and laid oft*. I had only a pleas- 
ant jaunt of twelve or thirteen miles on the morn- 
ing of the appointment. It was, however, mostly a 
pathway through the woods, and I had never trav- 
eled it before. However, at eleven o'clock, I found 
myself at a Mr. Hamilton's, the i)lace appointed for 
the service. The man by whom I sent the appoint- 
ment met me and conducted me into a genuine 
model of a frontier preaching- place — a private 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 119 

dwelling — one room, and that's all. Upon a bed- 
post hung half a dozen or more six-shooters. . Sev- 
eral guns were sitting up in the corners of the house, 
and a few were leaning against the w^all on the 
outside. Two or three of the congregation sat in 
a leaning-forward posture, with their guns resting 
against their shoulders, and muzzles up. The house 
being small was of course crowded with the people, 
and other things it contained. I^otwithstanding this, 
occasionally a dog might be seen twisting and fairly 
pushing himself through the crowd, now and then 
looking up into the faces of the people, until at last 
he found his master, when, as if satisfied, with a wag 
of his tail, and after a look of complacency, he would 
retreat to the door again. The table was out-doors 
under a brush arbor, as well as all culinary things. 
The benches were of split logs, mounted on legs, or 
of any other sort of thing convenient, for the peo- 
ple appeared by no means hard to please. 

AVhen these people, and others similarly situated, 
went to church, they left no one behind. If it were 
a day free from Indian alarm, the preacher might 
always count on a good congregation, if there were 
enough people in the settlement to make one, for 
men, women, and children all go. They go not only 
for the novelty of preaching, which they but seldom 
get, but for safety. The dogs go, nor do the cats 
stay away, and in a few instances I have known 
some chickens to follow. There is a kind feeling of 
fellow^ship subsisting between all the partners of a 
\ frontier residence. 



120 five years in the west. 

Leave Hamilton's for the West Fork of the 
Trinity River — Luck of the Night. 

After preach in g, I started about three o'clock for 
a settlement on the West Fork of the Trinity, a 
distance of thirty miles. I would like to have staid 
longer with the people here, bat my object was to 
reach another county-seat by the approaching Sun- 
day, in which I had a prearrangement to preach on 
that day. Therefore I had to be frugal of daylight, 
lest I should not be able to organize the missions up 
to that place by that time. 

There was no direct road in the direction I wanted 
to go. My route was along a few paths through 
rather open woods, but more frequently without any 
beaten track at all. It was reported to me that a 
few scattering settlers lay in my way, but that it 
would be rather accidental to find one of them, and 
therefore get a night's lodging. Some even fore- 
warned me that if I did not take care I would get 
caught out for the night. But, as I thought, being 
a pretty fair hand to keep a course, I did not feel 
specially uneasy, and therefore a little carelessly 
launched out on my course. I believed fully in a 
superintending Providence, and that it was my duty 
to go. I believed it would all w^ork well enough for 
the night. I set out under the best instructions I 
could get, determined to follow, as nearly as I could 
the direction given. It was the most plenteous re- 
gion for wild-turkeys I ever saw. Close pistol-shot 
to them was not at all difficult, they were so indif- 
ferent to the presence of a human being. I think 
their range had been little interrupted for muny 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 121 

years. I would have fired on them, but it appeared 
foolish to kill innocent creatures for which I had 
no use. Again, I scarcely knew where I was, nor 
in what proximity to me there lurked a secret foe. 
I thought it prudent, therefore, and preferred to ride 
on in silence through a pathless woodland. 

Towtird night-fall, a semi- weary anxiety came over 
me in reference to the night. I was anxious to find 
some trace of civilization, for I had seen none since 
I had been on this lonely route. If I could only 
have seen where the recent strokes of the settler's ax 
had chipped a tree, where wagon-wheels had im- 
pressed the ground, or in the distance heard the low 
of an ox, or the neigh of a horse, it would have 
brought relief to my suspense. The sun was just 
sinking to rest when, to my surprise and pleasure, 
I came unexpectedly and suddenly upon a habitation 
Avith no fenced field. A small house with one room 
and a moderate yard-fence, and that's all. 

Said I to the lord of this independency, *'How do 
youdo,sir?" "Moderate," said he; "what of your- 
self?" " Yery well," said I, "except I hardly know 
where I am. I would like to get lodging with you 
for the night; can you take me in?" "Well, yes, 
if you can put up with our way of living." "I can 
certainly do that, sir," said I, "and thank you." I 
alighted and tied my horse, or in Western phraseol- 
ogy " staked " him, on the best mat of grass around. 
My host was a little busy with some evening busi- 
ness, until the deep duskiness of the evening had 
gathered around, at which time supper was served; 
after which, while his wife was cleaning away the 



122 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

things, and putting their two little children to bed, 
he ene^as^ed me in conversation. He seemed anxious 
to find out something of me and ray business. Per- 
haps, if my voice had been toned np unnaturally, 
after the manner of a benediction, like some preach- 
ers with whom I have met, he would readily have 
known both me and my business; but my tone of 
voice then, as now j^ou find it is, was just such as is 
common with my fellow-men. It had no long-noted 
humdrum, no deep, grave-yard hollowness. I could 
never see wh}^ the tone of a man's voice should 
chano^e, thousch he become President of the United 
States. But let us not run off on too many tangent 
lines of thouo^ht — let us come ao-ain to our narrative. 
Said my host: "Are you a surveyor, sir, locating 
lands? " "1^0, sir," said I; "yet I understand that 
science, having studied both Davie and Gummere." 
This latter statement I made because I thought it 
would be pleasant enough to talk on that subject. 
"I thought," said he, " you might have a compass in 
your saddle-bags." After a pause, said he, "Are you 
looking out for a stock-ranch?" "i^o," said I, "I 
am not looking for a ranch, though I own a few horses 
in this State." "Where is your ranch?" said he. 
To this I gave a direct answer. "How long have 
you been in Texas?" said he. I told him three 
years. Said he: ^' Have you got land certificates, 
and looking for a place to locate them?" Said I: 
" No; I once speculated in them and got badly served 
on account of so many of them being a fraud. I 
think I will never have any thing more to do with 
land certificates." "I suppose," said he, "you have 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 123 

some relations along on the frontier, and you Lave 
come out to see them ? " '^ No, sir," said I, " my re- 
lations are generally in Kentucky; some in Missouri, 
and a few in Oregon." " What is your name? " said 
he. I told him, yet he appeared as ignorant as ever 
of my mission. I do not believe he would have 
guessed it in a week. He looked wonderingly and 
confused, and had but little more to say. I knew 
he was soliloquizing in his mind, and was anxious to 
know something more definite of the stranger whom 
he had taken in. Said T: "My friend, I will tell 
you who I am and what my business is." He and 
liis wife were all attention immediately. 

"I am," said I, "a Methodist circuit-rider, to or- 
ganize the people into congregations, and to preach 
to them the gospel. My business is to go all up and 
down the border of the settlements from Red River 
a hundred miles south." He looked at his wife 
and then looked at me, then looking wonderingly 
away, he faintly murmured, "A preacher." I am 
satisfied he never saw a preacher before, on the bor- 
der. He was secluded from the settlements, and 
perhaps had not heard of a preacher since he had 
settled that place. 

By and by he casually observed that he thought it 
bed-time. I remarked that I was always governed 
by the taste of the family with which I stopped. 
As often as two or three times he called my atten- 
tion to the fact that it was growing late. I thought 
I discovered what was his trouble. Owing to cer- 
tain training they have received, there are people 
who think it respectful to have prayers in their fam- 



124 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

ily, when a preacher visits them, yet they know not 
how to introduce the matter, and wait for him; 
and I suppose if he does not take a hint, or have 
courage, or stands back stiffly on the rules of eti- 
quette, where there is none and where it should not 
be expected, he will be in danger sometimes of sit- 
ting up all night. There are a few preachers who 
need to be served just that way; for they get a part 
of their education by thumps and kicks; and then 
sometimes they call it abuse, turn sour, make faces, 
and get angry, because the whole world, with one- 
tenth the opportunity, is not as well cultivated as 
they imagine themselves. 

With this philosophical view of the subject, I 
lifted my friend out of his entanglement, for I 
plainly saw he was of opinion that the preacher 
should manage prayers in the family the same as 
any other service. Therefore said I: "It is the cus- 
tom of us Methodist preachers to have prayers in 
the families with which we stop. If you approve it, 
we will have prayers before we retire.^' " Certainly, 
certainly," said he. Then looking toward his wife, 
he said: "Mary, fix a light." Then to me he said: 
" Have you a book? We had one, but somehow it 
got scattered while we were coming out here." I 
told him that I had a "book'' — that is, the Bible — 
but at the same time discovered that his Avife was con- 
siderably flurried over getting a light. The oil she 
nsed at supper flickered and waned, and I was satis- 
fled she had none to replenish with. I thought I 
would relieve her, and remarked that we would dis- 
pense with reading. "Wewill,however,"said I,"sing 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 125 

a familiar hymn and then pi'ay." I began a hymn 
which I thought everybody knew, and I thought they 
could easily chime in with me. It was " Soldier of 
the Cross." When I began to sing, two large, fero- 
cious dogs, which had up to that time been quiet, 
began to chime in with me, instead of the man and 
woman. It was not the lamenting howl they often 
give to a sounding horn, but an angry, vicious, spite- 
ful bark. Yet I sung on, and they barked on. The 
onl}^ difference was that while the circumstances 
had a tendency to keep me cooled down in tone, their 
vicious loudness increased continually. The hills 
and woods began to echo back dismally. But by 
and by the song was finished, and as I hoped the 
barking too. But no; for when we got down to 
prayers, the man at one end of their small house, 
the wife at the other, and I between them near the 
door-way, which was open, the noise of the barking 
still continued. Though I was not boisterous in my 
prayer, nor peculiarly solemn, yet the dogs barked 
more fiercely than before. They now began to run 
as they barked. They could not understand what 
was going on, and being dogs, they acted their part 
well by keeping up a racket that would frighten 
away demons, if such a thing could be done by noise. 
But at last they found the varmint. They came to 
the door, and as vociferously barked at me as if I 
had been a panther. I prayed on, but that injunc- 
tion "Watch" was literally and practically obeyed. 
One of the dogs in his eager spirit jumped half in at 
the door and snapped at me as though he would tear 
me. I gave way a little from the door and the dog, 



126 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

but had not yet concluded. The good wife could 
stand it no longer. She was up, and with a stick, 
just as he came at me again, struck him across the 
back and sent him howling away; at the same time 
she called out in earnest tones, ^'Joseph, get a board !' ' 
"Amen!" said I; and in a little quicker time than it 
is usually done, we were all on our feet and ready for 
the foe. 

This incident, at the time it happened, did not 
appear at all amusing to me, but I never narrated it 
to a friend unless I could see his lips curl with 
humor. If I had been older and more experienced 
in the ministr}^, I should in all probability have taken 
in the situation to better advantage. I might have 
stopped until quiet was restored; but like many a 
young preacher, I knew no stopping-place until I 
had made my full round of prayer. I trained my- 
self afterw^ard to stop anywhere and to begin any- 
where, according to the circumstances. As it relates 
to this good man and his wife, I have always thanked 
them in my heart. They took me in at night-fall 
when I was lost, and in a wild, desolate place. They 
gave me of the best diet they had, and a pillow for 
my weary head. They willingly and cheerfully 
treated me kindly, though perhaps I was a burden 
to them. They shall be remembered by me kindly 
as long as I remember the incident that occurred 
the night I staid with them. The prayer of that 
night was not the last I have offered for that family. 
What became of them I know not; but often and 
often my soul has breathed out for the man, his 
wife, and the two darliuij little children. The next 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 127 

morning, a little after the rising of the snn, I left 
them, advising them to seek the settlements, not 
thinking, how.ever, what would have become of tne 
that night had they not settled at that place. It is 
an unnatural act for a man to settle as that one did 
in a wild country remote from the settlements. 
However it may be I know not, but this I do know, 
that God provided in this way for one of his weary 
pilgrims. How man}^ more have been similarly 
provided for I shall never know. 



The Evil of Dancing. 

I found my way through to the west fork of the 
Trinity whither I had started, organized a class, or 
rather a congregation, and then met my Sabbath 
appointment. I saw the intensest excitement pre- 
vailed in the town. A party had fled away who had 
shot two men through, and could not be found. An 
old man was accused of harboring him, and the 
street talk was almost as severe against tlie old man 
as against the culprit. I was afraid they would 
visit the death penalty on the old man for his re- 
ported obliquity. I inquired into the nature of the 
affair, learned that they had a dancing party in town, 
and that the affair took place in the ball-room. My 
congregation was small considering the place, o wing- 
to the intense excitement that prevailed. 

How strange it is that so many people indorse the 
ball-room, and dancing, when it is such a fruitful 
source, such a prolific stem of so much hate, sorrow, 
and crime! Just to think of the unrest of that 



128 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

young culprit for his rash act; of the sorrow that 
brooded in the hearts of his once doting father and 
his loving mother; of the excitement it occasioned 
throughout the whole town and over a large section 
of the country; of the abuse heaped upon the old 
man for alleged assistance to the guilty, and of the 
old man's narrow escape from an excited and en- 
raged mob; of the suffering, bleeding, dying young 
men, the victims of the night; of the sorrow of 
fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters, as they hear 
their dying-groans — just to think of these as only a 
part of the fruits of the evil of dancing, and it is 
enough to chill the blood with horror, and be a 
standing argument along-side the verdict of the best 
society of the land that the ball-room is a great 
moral evil, and the fruitful source of varied crimes. 
Its evils are not confined to a single sex. It is the 
dark sneak that legalizes a liberty between the sexes 
that would be frowned down and execrated under 
any other circumstances, and in this way leads to 
the perversion of the soul and the debasement of 
character. 

I was riding along one day, and my attention was 
called to some men digging by the road-side. I 
stopped and asked them what they were doing. 
They, pointing to a house on a hill not far off, said: 
*' There was a dance up there last night; a man was 
killed, and we are fixing to bury him." 

I once saw an old man, accompanied by a lawyer, 
traveling to a distant town to see his son there 
lodged in jail. The old man appeared in deep sor- 
row. I learned from the lawyer that the old man's 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 129 

son had shot two men in an affray growing out of 
the troubles of a dancing-party. 

I lodged for the night once in a community where 
the nerves of the people were shocked over a trage- 
dy which had just occurred in their midst. I asked 
for its history. An old Christian lady answered as 
follows: " For many years our community was one 
of the most peaceful. We had no neighborhood 
quarrels; no neighbor entered a lawsuit against an- 
other ; the young people all loved one another. But 
about two years ago, some of the young people 
thought they must have a dance. We let them have 
their way. They have been keeping it up ever since. 
I see now there has been more unfriendly feeling 
and hate these two years than ever before. The 
dance has been the source of discord. No man ever 
got drunk in our community until about a year ago. 
But night before last, Joe Wilson, as good a young 
man as we had among us, was stabbed to death at 
the dance." 

There may be what are called fashionable balls, 
but they are without piety. Arguments may be 
made that the ball-room, or dance, is necessary to 
improve the manners, but those who can learn good 
manners only in this w^ay are certainly the stupidest 
of all the nation. Men may say in admiration, 
*'That lady w^altzes gracefully,'' but it is at the ex- 
pense of her virtue. Mothers may boast of this 
accomplishment among their daughters, but it does 
not spring from a broad brain. The practice of 
Washington City may be pleaded in vindication of 
dancing, yet this city may be as foul in Heaven's 
9 



130 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

view as any in America. Hundreds gather there 
seeking victims. It is useless to vindicate the ball- 
room. Its history is a rebuking comment to such a 
disciple. It brings up in gloomy array the smolder- 
ing virtue of too many thousands who have gone 
down under its perverting influences. If the young 
men of the nation would turn State's evidence in the 
case, there is not a virtuous cheek in all the land that 
would not blush at the rehearsal. It would be such 
an expose as would open the eyes of many to see 
how ruinous is this popular and enchanting evil. 
But we must stop. May God in his goodness 
speedily work a moral revolution in the minds of 
the people that will sound the death-knell to the 
ball-room, which is a kind of head- quarters in the 
business, and therefore unpopularize dancing all 
over the land. 

Snuffing the War-breeze. 
I now left this place for the extreme southern limit 
of the mission work. Here was the best improve- 
ment I had seen. It was entirely free from Indian 
excitement. Political partyism, however, was most 
exciting. Mr. Lincoln was soon to be sworn Presi- 
dent of the United States; some States*liad seceded. 
Texas was getting all ablaze with excitement. The 
lower part of the mission work had caught the po- 
litical distemper, and declared its readiness to bear 
its part in the coming conflict. The people were 
talking war. They regarded that a party was going 
into power whose creed, when thoroughly sifted and 
understood, was violative of the Constitution of the 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 131 

United States, and meant, in one form or another, 
war upon existing slavery unto its speedy and ulti- 
mate overthrow. They regarded that the "irre- 
pressible conflict" had come; that the issue was at 
their doors; that they had to meet it; that they had 
warded it ofi' as long as they could. The war-god 
w^as in the air. The nation's nostrils were full of 
his foul exhalations. It is true I was a Democrat. 
I was always a Southerner in feeling and sympathy. 
But opening Pandora's box just at this time— just as 
I w^as learning how to preach, just as I had entered 
out on my first work, just when I felt no zeal for 
using carnal w^eapons — was most harassing to me. 
The people's minds seemed to have taken a tangent 
from religion. When I would talk of Christ, the 
people w^ould talk of Mr. Lincoln. When I would 
talk of the doctrine of the New Testament, they 
would talk of the doctrine of political parties. 
When I went home with them, they could not re- 
member the text, yet they could repeat whole 
columns of news from the papers. All this was 
indeed distressing to the young preacher, yet he 
had it to endure. He resolved to go on, however, 
regardless of politics or war, and to organize, preach, 
talk to the children, visit, study, and do all the work 
of a pastor as best he knew how. Every thing in- 
dicated a general spiritual decline. I knew it would 
take hard work, and constant work, to keep the 
people's minds on Christ. 



132 five years in the west. 

Meeting with TJnivebsalism. 
On this part of the work I met with several TJni- 
versalists, who, as I had been informed, were in the 
habit of showing the preachers no quarters. Con- 
tact Avith them corroborated what had come to my 
ears. There was no use in trying to evade them — 
one of them especially. He regarded himself as the 
man of the country. He seemed not to care for the 
political stew in which the country was involved. 
He was a monomaniac, and universal salvation of 
the souls of men as a finality was his theme. He 
was more ostentatious than wise. He found where 
I was going, and therefore hunted me down for a 
victim. There are men in the world who will sacri- 
fice time and means, or, as it is stated in the Holy 
Word, "will compass sea and land, to make one 
proselyte; and when he is made, he is threefold more 
the child of the devil than before." Fortunately, I 
had seen and heard much of Universalism. It was 
by no means new or strange to me. It was by no 
means a shock to my nerves to meet with this stal- 
wart man of his class. Said I, " My friend, do you 
understand Greek? " for I had my old Greek gram- 
mar in my hand which I had found on the mission 
work about sixty miles away. " O yes," said he, 
with, as I thought, a pressed air of complacency. I 
then struck out on twpto with manifest familiarity, 
and asked him to conjugate it in the second aorist. 
"Ah ! " said he, " I do n't care to do that." "Ah ! " 
said I, "you must do it, or else I will not pick up 
the gauntlet you are in a habit of staving around 
so fearlessly.*' I could not prevail on him to try his 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 133 

hand in Greek grammar, and for a very good reason : 
he knew as little of Greek as I tlid, but at the time 
he thought he knew far less. Said I again: "My 
friend, do you not intend, in the event we have a 
discussion, to refer to Greek etymology for proofs 
of what you may assert to be the true meaning of 
words ? " To this he gave an answer so evasive and 
vague as to impress me that he knew not one word 
of Greek, lest it be aionias, the favorite and general 
text of Universalists. Yet he credited me with a 
far better knowledge of the language than I pos- 
sessed. In this, I considered that I had a decided 
advantage. Nor did he, according to his custom, up- 
braid me for superstition and ignorance. "Now," 
said I, "my friend, I am going to lay before you 
certain principles of doctrine Avhich I regard as axi- 
omatically true, and I shall never have any thing to 
say to you on your doctrine until you disprove them. 
I think you will sweat over them more than Her- 
cules did in cleaning the stables of King Augeus. 
Yet, Hercules was a wonderful worker; for he is 
credited with cleaning the stables in a single day, 
where three thousand oxen had been fed for thirty 
years. You shall have a Herculean task, and you 
will have to go at it in a Herculean way. These 
principles I hold to be true: 

"1. The first attribute of the Deity revealed is 
power. This is revealed in the creation. 

" 2. The second attribute revealed of Deity is jus- 
tice. This is seen in the penalty of death visited 
for touchinoj and eatins^ the interdicted fruit. 

" 3. The attribute of love, and consequent mercy 



134 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

growing out of it, is third in the order of its mani- 
festation to the world. This is seen in the promise 
alluding to the seed of the woman, or Christ: 'It 
shall bruise thy head.' 

"4. No attribute in the divine character can be 
abused through the influence of any other attribute. 

" 5. Man, by creation being a free moral agent, was 
provided with only a conditional salvation. In it, 
justice holds over the penalty, awaiting results. 

" 6. Man originally had the capacity to keep the 
law, and therefore glorify God with perfect obedience. 

"7. Under the promise and gift of God, man has 
now by grace a parallel capacity. 

" 8. If one sin of original transgression merited 
eternal punishment, and the escape w^as only pro- 
vided for through intercession, it will certainly fall 
no less severely on all free agents for whom escape 
was made, if they do not comply with the condi- 
tions. 

"9. A man is not saved or lost primarily by the 
law, but by the divine character. The law which is 
revealed, and which aflixes the penalty, is but the 
outcropping of the true divine character, which is 
both stern and immutable. 

"10. There are some created intelligences in the 
universe wdio are now moral wrecks, without hope 
or any system of relief, and wdio are now separated 
from the better class of their kind who kept their 
first estate. 

"11. There are impossibilities, mathematical, phys- 
ical, and moral, with God. He cannot make three 
and two less nor more than five; nor one part of a 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 135 

circle more remote than another part from the 
center. He cannot make a thing be and not be at 
the same time, nor a stick with just one end. God 
is not absurd. He cannot be God and forgive the 
impenitent, save a sinner in heaven, nor send a 
Christian to hell. 

" 12. A man dies a Christian or a sinner, and there- 
by seals his relation for eternity. 

" ] 3. So far as we can learn from His word, he has 
but two places for angels and men — heaven and 
hell. The process of Universalists in destroying the 
one by any arguments on definitive words annihi- 
lates the other. 

"Now, sir," said I, "these are principles which I 
hold to, and they are true. You cannot refute them, 
and you need not try. They are enough to give 
any Universalist in America the lock-jaw. Until 
you take them up one at a time and disprove their 
truth, I shall have nothing more to say to you on 
doctrine." I acknowledge that it did not logical!}^ 
follow that my opponent was put to the necessity 
and hard task of proving a negative; nevertheless, 
this was the way of it, and it was effectual enough 
for the time. 

There are people in the world more valuable than 
wise. This was one of them. He had infested that 
settlement in a mouthing way long enough; and 
long enough had been diffusing his poison and 
making minced-meat of the weak and ignorant. 
But now, like a tail-picked peacock, he was com- 
pletely settled. He never rallied under the turn I 
made to beat him by laying down principles of doc- 



136 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

trine. What became of him I know not. The last 
I knew of him he was known under the name of 
^'Old Lock-jaw." 

The Recount. 

I was not much longer in completing my first cam- 
paign and in organizing the missions so far as it was 
devolved on myself, and soon found myself again 
where I began my mission work — the place where I 
was once tempted to desert the ministry, and in 
which I could again see my young friend "Jesse," 
and hear him sing. I had seen no Indians, and so 
far as I knew had made no hair-breadth escapes. I 
had been continually going for nearly six weeks; 
the organization was about complete. I had now 
preached nineteen times; at a few places I preached 
twice. I had for my next campaign a list of twenty- 
three appointments, with a probable increase of 
them. I had been closely occupied, but did not feel 
weary — could preach pretty much to my satisfaction 
now, though, of course, it was but poor preaching 
at best. 

Now, dear mother, I have narrated to you one 
campaign on the missions. They were repeated 
regularly every six weeks until the close of the Con- 
ference-year. I have given you the first, as the most 
important one, somewhat in detail. To give them 
all in detail, as each succeeded the other, would, in 
many respects, be monotonous. I will not weary 
you with such a course, but will lead on in a way 
that shows variety, which, you know, is the spice of 
things. I think I know the kind of bouquet you 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 137 

used to love, and from that memory I shall try and 
make the arrangement that will please you well. I 
will close my work on the missions with sketches, 
reminiscences, and anecdotes, which I know you 
love so well. Such a taste and love I have inherited 
from you. Kever have I grown weary when hear- 
ing a good narrator tell of these; and the book that 
contains them is always full of interest to me. Now, 
to begin, I invite you to 

An Old Lady who Had Seen Better Days. 

While making the campaigns of the missions, I 
scarcely ever got into that vicinity without stopping 
with a certain good man at least for a dinner, if not 
for a night. This good brother was a preacher, 
grown somewhat old; was a little lame, slow of 
speech, but greatly respected and loved by all the 
people. I saw in his house, among the other mem- 
bers of his family, an old lady of singular costume 
and habits. Her reason was much wasted, and her 
articulation very indistinct, which, as I afterward 
learned, was brought on her by disease. From the 
first time I saw this sad spectacle in the form of a 
human being, she often occupied my thoughts when 
at other points, and surrounded by very different 
circumstances; for there was an outline developed 
in her manner, and a background in her counte- 
nance that indicated she once had better days, and 
was deserving of a better fate. It was an outline, 
though stained, which neither time nor misfortune 
could wash away. I did, somewhere in my diary, 
note the name of this interesting and unfortunate 
lady, but the leaf has been lost. It was not until in 



138 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

the summer season following my first sight of her 
that I learned a sketch of her history. It was acci- 
dental. The good man, of whom I have already 
spoken, invited me to a seat on the porch as the 
pleasantest for a hot summer day. When I entered 
the porch, there I saw this object of my sketch lying 
on a comfortable-looking pallet, apparently indiffer- 
ent to all that was going on around. In some way 
I scarcely hold in memory now, the names of Wash- 
ington and Jefferson were called. Thereupon, sud- 
denly, as if aroused by some unexpected shock, the 
emaciated and pitiable old lady on the pallet, w^ho 
had noticed nothing before, aroused as from sleep, 
raised herself on her elbows, and with eyes enlivened, 
in her indistinct utterance called the names of Wash- 
ington, Jefferson, Adams, and others who were dis- 
tinguished men at the nation's capital in the latter 
part of the eighteenth and in the beginning of the 
nineteenth century. She appeared, in her incoher- 
ent manner, anxious to converse with me of those 
men, and of those times. In her feeble and semi- 
demented manner, I could see more distinctly the 
traces of a high culture that made her in her girl- 
hood days the associate and guest of the best society 
at the capital of the country. 

I could not learn the full history of this unfortu- 
nate lady. Iler page had been a blank sheet for a 
long time. Adversity in young womanhood had 
turned on her his grinding heel. In wrestling with 
poverty, she had gradually sunken down into com- 
parative obscurity, making her page for many years 
a blank sheet on which no one troubled himself to 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 139 

write, and whose bright surface had been abused 
only by the lapse of time and the tears of sorrow 
which she shed. When I looked on this sad relic 
of humanity and learned something of her history, 
it sent a pain to my heart. Alas! thought I, how 
varied is human life here below! What lonely hills 
we sometimes climb! What beautiful things, in 
enraptured vision, we sometimes behold from their 
summits! Yet how often, before the round of life 
is made, force of circumstances drives us down on 
the other side among the groveling things in the 
valley below ! 

Isaiah xxviii, 20, 
"The bed is shorter than that a man can stretch 
himself on it; and the covering narrower than that 
he can wrap himself in it." To be compelled to go 
to bed on such a bed and with such cover, in the 
time of a blue Texas N'orther, was enough to make 
me wish that such a custom as going to bed and 
sleeping had never been invented. Why, what can 
a man do in such a fix ? He can't lie down grace- 
fully; he can't cover himself decently; but — he can 
shiver. Well, that is doing something, to be sure; 
but it is the thing he doesn't want to do, and yet 
the very thing he cannot help doing. Such is some 
of our experience on the missions. On such oc- 
casions I never felt like studying Greek, of conju- 
gating the verb tupto, nor of trying to recall any of 
the words of that language. I would not, under 
the circumstances, have discussed the question of 
religion with a Univcrsalist. I did not even feel 



140 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

like spending my time in prayer; nor did I feel like 
calling for more cover or a larger bed — for I knew 
the good people did for me the best they could. It 
is only a little of the sacrifice a man must bear who 
is called to preach the gospel and goes — anywhere. 
Well, I will tell you how I learned to do before I 
shivered many nights. I learned not to go to bed 
at all — that is, in the ordinary way of stripping ofi' 
to the freezing point; yet there are some men who 
have such a liking for this custom, and it exerts 
such imperial sway over them, that they follow it 
against reason, common sense, comfort, and every 
thing else that might be named. "Well, let them 
go on — shiver — freeze; I have no objection. But I 
will do again, under the circumstances, just as I 
did then — just the reverse. Instead of stripping, I 
would go down into my treasury department and 
find more clothes, and put them on too. I would 
just not go to bed at all. I would just lie down as 
I ride a horse, overcoat and all, only minus spurs 
and boots. If the bed was too short, I contracted. 
If the cover was to narrow, I wrapped it around 
my feet. If I wanted to turn over, I wouldn't do 
it. If I got in pain, I learned to endure. If I 
thought I could stand it no longer, I knew I could. 
I knew I had to be still; for I learned from experi- 
ence the irreparable damage inflicted by tossing 
about when lying down cold. Just move once, and 
then shiver the remainder of the night. If one is up 
in the cold, let him take exercise to keep warm; but 
if he is lying down in the cold, let him keep still if 
he wants not to freeze. I will not grow solemn 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 141 

over the matter, but I must say, though I have not 
done it latterly, and never in the public congre- 
gation nor around the family altar, yet I have many 
a time prayed: "Good Lord, deliver me from such 
a bed as Isaiah describes when he says, 'The bed is 
shorter than that a man can stretch himself on it; 
and the covering narrower than that he can wrap 
himself in it.'" 

The Unlucky Night. 
It had been a beautiful day, followed by a beautiful 
night, that I retired to rest toward the north-west 
border of the mission work. When I retired, I felt 
a calm satisfaction creep over me. My mood of mind 
and heart readily enticed the folding arms of Mor- 
pheus, and soon I had lost sight of all surrounding 
things, and "nature's sweet restorer " was preparing 
me for the arduous labors of another day. It was 
near to the hour of midnight, when " deep sleep falls 
on man," or about the time of night the Greeks left 
Tenedos for Troy, that I heard the low and rather 
solemn call of my name. I faintly heard at first, 
then more distinctly, and finally aroused and looked. 
The gentleman of the house was up, dressed, gun in 
hand and six-shooter buckled around him. His six- 
teen-year-old son w^as armed, and stood with the ut- 
most composure. The wife stood around with a 
half-afraid, anxious look. There was talking going 
on among them in a low tone. I comprehended 
immediately that they had evidences that the Indi- 
ans were in the settlement. Soon being armed, with 
six-shooter in hand, said I: "My friend, what evi- 



142 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

dences have you that the Indians are in the coun- 
try? " Said he: " The very best, and I fear the fam- 
ily over the way have been murdered." This an- 
nouncement made me feel very sad. Whereupon I 
asked him for the evidences in the case. He con- 
tinued by saying that he never heard such screaming 
as he heard over there awhile ago; that evidently 
something was up. I listened, bat could hear noth- 
ing. Said I: ''My friend, I will tell you what we 
will do. You stay here, and I and James will go 
and reconnoiter the place and find out what is 
done." Against this course the wife most solemnly 
protested, and in the wildest manner insisted that 
if their house were attacked all of us would be nec- 
essary to make a defense. Thereupon my friend 
and brother remarked that "what was done over 
there could not be helped or mended now." I said 
no more. After a little while, he remarked that he 
was afraid the Indians would get his horses. This 
reminded me that my faithful George was as much 
exposed. Said I: "Can we not guard our horses 
with safety to your family?" "Yes," said he, "if 
we guard our horses we can save them; and if the 
Indians make an attack on the house, a few shots 
into them from the outside will put them in confu- 
sion and drive them into hasty retreat." 

Accordingly, we guarded our horses in a lot near 
by until the dawning of the day. The night had 
passed away in the utmost stillness, except the bark- 
ing of dogs throughout the night, which betokened 
to frontiersmen that all was not right. Kow said 
my friend: "I will step over yonder where I heard 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 143 

the screaming of the women, and you and James 
can stay here awhile yet." He went, and soon re- 
turned. There was a humorous and pleasant grin 
on his face, and just as much of it as could be ex- 
pected after losing a night's rest, and harassed with 
suspense and anxiety. "My brother," said T, "let 
ns hear your report." "There is nobody killed or 
scalped,"' said he, with the grin on his face now 
growing broader. "But," said I, "you have kept 
me up for a night, and I want to know the cause 
of it." ''Well,'* said he, "about six months ago, 
the husband of one of the ladies over there went ofl', 
and had not been heard of since. About the hour 
of midnight, last night, he returned." " Is that all? " 
said I. " That is all," said he. "Is that the cause 
of all that screaming, by which you thought a whole 
family was murdered by the Indians?" "That is 
it," said he. "But come, now," said I, "are there 
really no Indians in the country?" "^N^one that I 
have heard of," said he. 

I now began to think, without speaking a word 
of it. I thought of what James said a good while 
ago: "Behold what a great matter a little lire kin- 
dleth." I thought of our suspense and anxiety, of 
the loss of a good night's rest, and of my own drow- 
siness. I thought of woman's tongue, and the quick- 
pulsating chords of the throat; how she can tune 
these up into an alarming scream on occasions both 
necessary and unnecessary. I thought, behind all 
this, of the moving spring to it all — of a delinquent 
husband, and how much he deserved to be punished. 
I just thought until I thought myself down, like a 



144 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

hound worn out in the chase, and tried to be con- 
tent with an aiFair that was now be^^ond all amend- 
ing. But I did resolve never to be troubled, nor to 
trouble myself, about Indians again, unless I knew 
they were nearer than forty miles of me. 



The Cyclone. 
One blustering Sunday, having preached to a re- 
spectable congregation, for the West, I went home 
with a Presbyterian possessed of a large family. He 
lived in a house built of hewn post-oak logs, with 
a box-frame, eaving to one side, attached. There 
w^ere two stone chimneys to the north end — one to 
the frame, and the other to the log part of his dwell- 
ing. As the day advanced, the winds began to dash 
more furiously, as if competing in a race. About 
three o'clock, a dark, ill-omened cloud appeare'd a 
little above the horizon in the north-west, over the 
face of which, as it grew a little higher, the gulf-clouds 
moved about as if in sportive play. For awhile 
this dark-blue cloud seemed to hesitate, and have a 
doubt whether it would remain back until dissipated 
into ether-blue or advance and terrify the souls of 
men. But before five o'clock, all doubt of its inten- 
tions had disappeared. It was evidently advancing, 
and every moment assumed an aspect more threat- 
ening. The wind, which before came in fitful gusts, 
began to drive with a constant pressing force right 
into the face of the rising monster. It was like two 
fierce monsters fixing for tierce combat. The driv- 
ing wind appeared enough to drive back any force; 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 145 

but that dark-blue monster rather seemed to be hast- 
ening to the combat. 

Ah! how beautifully grand the sight, and yet ac- 
companied with such awe-inspiring power! Out in 
the West, on the broad, opeii prairie, with vision un- 
eclipsed, only on the horizon where the earth and sky 
meet. Alone? jSTo, not all alone; our trust is in iZzm 

Who plants his footsteps in the sea 
And rules within the storm. 

Doors and windows are all securely fastened. I 
knew not yet what was coming. I had never seen 
a cyclone. All I knew was that the elements ap- 
peared to be tangled and mad. I could hear a roar- 
ing like a distant grinding. The wind that for some 
time had been driving steadily, in the face of the 
dark, rising cloud, stopped so suddenly that the 
house fairly cracked on righting itself on relief from 
the pressure. There is a calm, but the low, growl- 
ing, grinding sound in rumbling tone is heard near 
at hand. Up to this time I felt no uneasiness; but 
something moved me, and without permission I 
advanced to the door in the west side of the house 
and opened it, when lo! and not far off, there broke 
upon my vision a dreadful sky. The cyclone had 
already burst upon the earth, and here the mon- 
ster came, dipping from sky to earth, and in revolv- 
ing tide carrying round and round the clouds and the 
debris of many a ruined thing. I closed the door, and 
lost no time. *' My brother," said I, " quick, quick, 
a cyclone ! If you have a cellar or any under-ground 
protection, haste into it with your family." lie 
seemed amazed at my action and slow to move. He 
10 



146 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

could not realize, for his eyes had not seen, the 
dreadful sky. He said there was an under-ground 
milk-house on the east side of the house. I opened 
the door and passed out three children who were 
soon safe in their under-ground retreat. Ko others 
would go. Just then — O the indescribable force! — 
the monster struck the south-west corner of the build- 
ing. I heard the crash, and thought every thing 
moved with the driving tide. I sprung immediately 
from the door in the east toward the subterranean 
cavity, in which I knew three children were safe. I 
did not reach it. I was too late. I went a helpless 
victim along with the rolling tide. I was not con- 
scious of the distance I had been carried, for during 
this war of elements I found myself thinking of this 
little milk-house, and clutching to find my way into 
it. But wiaen I could stand and make my reckoning, 
I found myself several hundred yards awa3\ 

I remember I was in dread of losing my breath 
through the very force of the winds. I am of opin- 
ion some have died in this w^y. I remember clutch- 
ing the grass and throwing my face between m}^ 
arms in order to breathe at all. I had no intention 
of making observations during this rage of elements, 
for it was with difficulty that I could see at all; yet 
occasional glimpses taught me how safe it was to lie 
low. Every object that had been weighed by the 
wind was flying with arrow speed. Only ponderous 
objects came rolling and bounding on the ground. 
These ordinarily rolling would have a crushing 
weight, but when almost lifted by the wind were 
comparatively harmless. Several heavy timbers I 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 147 

saw come bounding toward me. I crouched, felt 
them push me and then go on their way, doing me 
no harm. 

J^ow that it was over, I looked around to see how 
things appeared. Yonder in the distance, I see two 
stone chimneys standing as high as their shoulders, 
with a heap of rubbish piled about them. I ap- 
proach it, passing by the cavern in the ground, 
when three little heads, peeping out, as if realizing 
the catastrophe, say, ^' We are all safe in here." 1 
did not tarry, but remarking, '' Remain quiet," hast- 
ened into the debris of that ruined dwelling. There, 
crouched under the ruins by one of the chimneys, 
against which some of the logs had lodged, were the 
man, his wife, and all the rest of their children, all 
unhurt, except a slight bruise on the man's head. 
In a little while, he and I started for the nearest 
house — his neighbor, a young man that had just 
brought his bride of Thursday last to his new home. 
The house was razed to its foundation, but no mor- 
tal answered our call. As we pull around in the 
dark through the rubbish, expecting every moment 
to find the remains of this newly united and loving 
pair, away up northward, in the direction the storm 
came, we hear a voice. We answer and wait. Here 
they come, in each other's embrace, laughing and 
chatting only as newly married lovers can. They 
were unhurt, and agreed in their story: "When the 
cyclone struck, the roof went, and we were drawn 
out at the top of the building. Away we went hold- 
ing together, and on our way got in company with 
the wagon -bod}^ IIow far we went before we struck 



148 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

the earth, we do not know; but it did not hurt us, 
though we could not stop when we came to the 
ground. We traveled on for awhile, sometimes up 
and sometimes down, until the wind got so it would 
let us stop; but we never saw the wagon-body any 
more after we came to the ground." Every house 
in the vicinity, seven in number, I believe, was torn 
to pieces; yet, strange as it may appear, not one hu- 
man being, so far as I learned, received a mortal 
wound. 

But I must tell you about my poor frightened 
George. I had put him in a little stable in the even- 
ing. After I found the family were safe, I thought 
of him; but the stable, with the bottom log, and 
every rail of the lot, were so clean gone that I could 
not mark the spot. Poor fellow! I found him next 
morning about two miles aw^ay, but not yet quieted 
in his nerves — yet as glad to see me as I was to see 
him. "It was a happy meeting." 



On an Indian Trail. 
From a mountain peak, tow^ard the head waters 
of Denton Creek, at a distance of fifteen miles, I had 
an appointment. The route for twelve miles lay 
through the cross woods countr}^ with no beaten 
track, only a pathway sufficiently distinct, when once 
learned, to be followed on horseback. I usually 
traveled this distance of mornings, early enough to 
meet the eleven o'clock hour. On one occasion, 
when I had approached to within four miles of my 
destination, along a glade, directly in my front, I 
saw- a dozen or more men, armed and mounted, mov- 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 149 

ing cantiousl}^ along, closely observing the ground, 
with occasional glances in different directions. I 
hastily came up to them, and found they were the 
citizens for whom I had an appointment at eleven 
o'clock. They told me they had struck the trail two 
or three miles back, and had been following it the 
way I was traveling. I saw there was no use in 
trying to preach that day, and therefore joined in 
with them, to take a lesson in an Indian hunt. In 
following the trail, we passed within a few hundred 
yards of the house in which I had an appointment 
for the day. 

It was an easy matter to tell the tracks made by 
the Indians from those made by the white people, 
for instead of boots and shoes, they wore a heelless, 
round-toed moccasin. This made an impress read- 
ily recognized by all frontiersmen as an Indian sign. 
However, two or three in this marauding party \vore 
shoes or boots, as was evinced b}' their tracks. These 
were regarded as white men who had banded them- 
selves with the Indians in order that they might 
prey with them on the honest labors of the settlers. 
They adopted the Indian manners of painting and 
costume, except as to their feet. In the excursions 
of the whites against the Indians, some of this class 
have been killed, whence their identity became 
known. Against these, frontiersmen cultivated 
greater hatred than against the Indians themselves. 
It appeared strange how the Indians could slip into 
the country, and understand it so well, until it \yas 
found that a few white men had allied themselves 
with them. These could leave the country of the 



150 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

Indians, put on the garb of the whites, and spend a 
week or two in spying out a settlement, and the 
range of the best herds. They could then report 
back, and guide the Indians in. They always came 
in afoot. 

These moccasin people use much art to conceal their 
ingress. I saw myself how they would use care to 
evade the softer grounds; and in crossing roads they 
would throw down wisps of grass, a rock or chunk, 
and step on these, evading all possible ways of im- 
pressing the soil with their feet. But I must go on 
with our Indian hunt. We followed the trail until 
night. It was a slow business. Sometimes we would 
lose the trail and be detained. In all, w^e made eight 
miles that day, from the point I came up with the 
party. Night came on. We could do nothing more 
than to w^atch and guard, as best w^e could, until an- 
other day. It was a fact, the Indians were in the 
country. It was a night of suspense to the hardy 
settlers. Early the next morning, a courier from 
eight miles below came in hot haste, stating that there 
was the wildest excitement in that section; that the 
Indians began about two hours before day, and were 
collecting all the horses in the settlement. There, 
in an unexpected place, the Indians had inflicted 
their blow on the settlers, and before the sun had 
fairly risen, were on their way toward their haunts 
with about one hundred and fifty horses. They al- 
ways go out in a hurry, traveling with their booty 
from five to eight miles an hour. Our party, on 
getting this news, made an eflfort to intercept them, 
but failed, by two hours. The trail they made with 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 151 

tins vast herd was not hard to follow. I never saw 
men more anxious to catch villains than our party. 
Even I myself felt some anxiety for the pre}^ We 
pressed our horses hard in the pursuit. Quite a 
number of the horses, as we suppose, straggled, and 
there being no time to keep them in the main herd, 
were left. These we called " recaptured." We came 
on several killed, with arrows remaining in them. 

But it was an unlucky day for us. By noon we 
had passed through the main woodland, and came 
to the open prairie. We could see for a long dis- 
tance, but nothing of these rogues, nor of the herd 
they had stolen. We were probably not gaining. 
About two oclock, it became evident that we would 
have to give up the chase, for several of our party 
were lagging on account of their horses. A halt was 
made tijl the rear came up. A consultation was 
held, in which it was agreed that nothing could be 
effected. They returned home, and I in the direc- 
tion of my next appointments. It was not a pleas- 
ant feeling to the party to go back in this plight, 
yet we had to make the most of it, and be content, 
for we had done all we could. This is just such luck 
as the settlers generally had with this treacherous 
race. 

The Brother who was Going to Make Me a 
Nice Present. 

For these missions there was an appropriation 
about half equal to a very meager support. There 
were a few people scattered here and there who 
were able to pay liberally to the support of the min- 



152 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

istry. Some of these felt their ability, and their con- 
sciences would not let them alone when the preacher 
was about. They would make large promises to 
him once in about every six weeks. One of these, 
who perhaps through modesty would prefer not to 
have his name called here, I shall call attention to 
particularly, because he was not like some people I 
have known, but, as I think, carried out fully all his 
intended liberality. TMie young preacher always 
thanks God, and feels encouraged, when he meets 
with one of these open-hearted, good-natured, lib- 
eral men, of whom onl}^ a few are to be found in any 
district. But if the brethren could only realize how 
much good sucl^good souls do the pastor, and espe- 
cially the young preacher, their number would cer- 
tainly be increased without delay. 

This brother of whom I am going to tell you was 
very gentlemanly and kind in his house. I could 
not help loving him. It was early in the spring of 
my mission work that he told me that he liked my 
preaching, and that he also liked me as a man; that 
I was having a rough time, and doing much sacri- 
fice in preaching the gospel to the people in those 
parts. He said that he thought I ought to be liber- 
ally rewarded in a temporal sense; that he felt a 
consciousness that I would get a rich reward for all 
these labors when the Master called me from labor 
to rest. lie concluded by saying: "You may confi- 
dently expect a very handsome present from me at 
least." '' Very well," said I, " you can do, m}^ brother, 
as you find in 3^our heart, and thank you." 

Let me repeat, it makes the young preacher feel 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 153 

happy, and like he is at home, to meet up with one of 
these full-souled, open-hearted, charitable characters, 
which are to be found onl}^ now and then on missions 
and circuits. What would become of the young 
preachers, if it were not for one of these? Where 
could they find rest? Where else could they find a 
model to hold up before their congregations worthy 
of emulation ? Neither lapse of time nor change of 
circumstances can wash from the memory of the 
young preacher such a father in Israel. When I 
came around again, this brother reminded me of the 
present he was going to prepare for me. He had not 
forgotten it, as I feared he might. N'o, God bless his 
large soul, he was not the man that forgets when he 
makes promises. Ah! I could say uow to my soul: 
"Be easy, be patient, just bide your time; give the 
liberal, good souls of earth their own time; that 
which is in a man's heart will come out, though he 
delays." Nor did I have to wait much longer before 
I realized what a big heart this brother had. 

I was making my last round in that section of the 
work, and I concluded I would go home with my 
open-hearted, charitable friend; for a warm affection 
had sprung up between us. In bidding adieu to the 
people in that section of the country, I wanted to 
feel his hand last, from which the warm blood flowed 
to a w^armer heart. How pleasantly our conversa- 
tion flowed! But time was up with me, and I said: 
"My good brother, it is hard we have to break up 
these friendships, so far as beholding each other'^s 
faces. But I must go, and where I shall be sent only 
the Lord knows; but it is a blessed thought that by 



1 54 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

and by, if we are faithful, we shall obtain a rest 
where there are no more partings." "That is so, 
that is so," responded he; "and God bless you, my 
brother! Take this with you, and remember me. I 
wish I could do more for yon; but this is the best I 
can do for you now. Times are closing down hard 
on me just now." " Thank you," said I, as I received 
the long talked of and expected present, neatly 
wrapped up in paper. I dropped it down in my 
pocket and rode away. 

I had not gone far before I felt a longing desire to 
see the present my friend and brother had made me 
— his appreciation of the gospel — the value he had 
returned for it that year. I unrolled it carefully, 
and lol there it was sure enough, sizing up with his 
good »oul — a plug of tobacco; not one of your little 
plugs that would show up a narrow soul, but one of 
good size, about as big a gift as a man can get in one 
piece. "Ah I" thought I, "how foolish was I for 
once thinking this good friend and brother would 
forget me! Never, no." And then again, this plug 
of tobacco must have cost my good friend at least 
twenty-five cents. 

I thought I would try a cut of it. I gave it a twist 
or two with my tongue, and then brought my mo- 
lars down on it; but hush! my good friend and 
brother was deceived. But he was not to blame. I 
know he, in the purity of his heart and in the good- 
ness of his soul, did not intend to palm off on me a 
worthless rotten stuff with a beautiful wrapping leaf. 
No, the merchant deceived him, and he is the one 
to be blamed. Thus it is often the case in life: wf^ 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 155 

mean to do good, but like my friend and brother 
with his tobacco-plug present, we have been imposed 
on ourselv^es. Here we hold up one man who, though 
disappointed by hard times, gave as much as he in- 
tended from the first. And I believe there are a few 
on almost every mission and circuit who emulate 
his example. 

Out and In the Compass of the Gospel. 
I was traveling away up toward Ked Kiver, and 
finding I had a little spare time, I resolved on going 
to a neighborhood not far ofi', and give them a touch 
of our gospel. I made inquiry, and soon found the 
place. Being among them, and beginning an ac- 
quaintance, I accordingly left an appointment at my 
next round. I came to time, and found a cong-re- 
gation of twenty or more people, looking just about 
the same as other people along on the frontier. My 
text that day carried me out on the love and mercy 
of God. I probably did not restrain myself within 
its legitimate scope; but having the fault, in com- 
mon with many young preachers, of largely specu- 
lating, I scattered too much — shot wide of the mark, 
and therefore did no good. In order to show up the 
love and mercy of God, I gave reasons why I be- 
lieved the lower animals will have a hereafter; that 
the love and mercy of God would induce him to 
provide a place for them. My soul seemed to swell 
with large ideas of love and mercy, and I rode out 
into an open sea on these tides. I did not think at 
the time that I was doing harm — I had no intention 
of it; I felt just the other way; I did not apprehend 



156 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

that a scowl was gathering on the brows of my 
audience; yet I must admit I crippled myself badly 
with those people that day. I knew nothing of it 
at the time. The family I went home with, how- 
ever, I saw plainly were not pleased with the dis- 
course. They were Baptists, and I thought ought 
to be pleased, for not one word had J spoken against 
that honorable Christian denomination; yet I had 
mixed the ointment with a dead ^y in it; at least it 
appeared so to those people, and I believe to all of 
them without an exception. This was it: I had 
spoken of the probable future life of the lower or- 
ders. This was my crime, in their estimation, and 
I had to pay the penalty they assessed. I told this 
family that I was stating only what is probable, and 
that the thought comes up more from our rational 
mind and sympathies than from any direct reve- 
lation ; and that many good people believe it. They 
insisted, however, that they did not like to be classed 
with the brutes that perish; and furthermore, that 
they did not believe that it was any part of a 
preacher's business in his pulpit administrations to 
mix up people, dogs, and cats all together; and I 
have thought so myself ever since; for when I had 
gone a long way from that place, a brother handed 
me a note which, when I had opened, I found to read 
as follows: 

JDmr Sir : You will please not come to our school-house to preach 
any more. We do not want to hear you, and we^o not think our 
dogs and cats understand you. 

This note had two signatures from that vicinity. 
My eyes were opened;. and I thought it probably a 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 157 

merited rebuke. I had probabl}^ been running too 
fast, and resolved to check my speed. I believe I 
was converted; at least in the pulpit I have never 
since argued the immortality of the brutes, but have 
tried to keep myself within the limits of the gospel 
to man, which I have always found profitable and 
interesting to the people. I believe there is too 
much semi-rationalistic, speculative preaching in 
the world. If the merited rebuke could be given to 
a thousand preachers in our land who are wasting 
their energies on profitless views, so as to induce 
them to turn their shafts and spend their energies 
within the legitimate compass of the gospel, the 
progress of Christianity would be far more rapid. 



The Tongue — James hi. 3-8. 
On a pleasant stream on these missions lived a 
family who had enough of this world's goods to be 
happy. There was the father and mother, sur- 
rounded by several kind-hearted, bright-eyed little 
children who looked softly toward each other and 
the stranger, whoever he. was, that entered. There 
was but one thing lacking to make this one of the 
happiest of families. They had enough and some- 
thing to spare. The husband was intelligent; they 
were both Methodists; but they lacked peace at 
hom,e. The husband loved the children, and I be- 
lieve he loved his wife, though I could not see why, 
for she was one of the most caustic of women. The 
wife was kind enough to the children; cared dili- 
gently for the way-worn traveler, and always kept 
the peace when her husband was away; but from 



158 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

the moment he came in, there was no more peace un- 
til he left — not that he quarreled, for I never heard 
him speak an unkind word, or give across, revengeful 
look. I believe this wife loved her husband, not- 
withstanding. Her words never indicated love when 
he was present, yet when absent she always spoke 
tenderly and kindly of him. When he was aw^ay, 
she always appeared anxious for his return. He 
looked like he desired to be in, though he w^as 
mostly away, whether business called him or not. 
He was the worst hen-pecked man I ever saw; he 
w^as the embodiment of forbearance. He may once 
have tried to choke her tongue oft". If he did, he 
lost the victory; hence he resigned himself to his 
fate, and resolved to endure. If we are to credit 
Plato, Xantippe loved Socrates; yet that old phi- 
losopher had much to endure for that love's sake. 

When a man's marriage is unfortunate, I have 
observed that it affects him one way or another, ac- 
cording to his temper or inclination. Socrates 
looked on the subject more philosophically than 
most men since his day. When reproached for not 
driving so bad a woman from his house, I think he 
did not mean altogether an irony w^ien he said he 
endured such a woman patiently at home so that 
being accustomed he would not be affected by them 
when abroad. But every man is not a philosopher. 
Some look immediately for a divorce; some go off 
to unknown parts; some take to intoxicants. But 
this man became remarkably fond of sleep. He 
adopted this as the happiest way of spending his 
time when in. It was well enough too — much bet- 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 159 

ter than quarreling with a wife, or of reeling under 
intoxicants. When he came in from the weary 
labors of the day, he got no words of cheer from 
her who had taken him "for better or for worse" in 
life's copartnership. He reported none of his ardu- 
ous labors, none of his mishaps and trials, for he 
knew he would get no sympathizing, kindly spoken 
word to make him feel that his yoke is easy and the 
burden light. There met him no pleasant smile that 
takes away the tired man's weariness.- He fled early 
from the old hearth-stone to a pillow to rest his 
weary head. Retiring early, any one would reason- 
ably suppose he would be an early riser; but this 
was not the case with this man, who chose to sleep 
through policy. His rising was late, extremely 
late for one living in the country. But by and by 
he is up, and quietly moves around. He loves peace, 
and never tells a child to wake up ma; no, he loves 
these moments of bliss. She was a sleeper too, es- 
pecially in the morning. Why she could sleep so, 
and lose so much time before her husband could get 
out into the general business of the day, I never 
could tell. I know it was not her will. Probably 
it required all this time to recuperate her exhausted 
powers. But the day is not yet begun ; it was never 
counted fairly so, until she had shaken slumber from 
her eyes; then one glance at her husband showed 
her the text of the day. I have seen many a wom- 
an, and have marked their qualities in passing along, 
but this one was the greatest shrew of them all. In 
her, on thegroundthat theheathenidcaof metempsy- 
chosis be true, had returned the soul of Mrs. Socrates. 



160 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

the tongue, the tongue! what an unruly evil it 
is when unbridled! "Behold, we put bits in the 
horses' mouths, that they may obey us; and we turn 
about their whole body. Behold also the ships, 
which though they be so great, and are driven of 
fierce winds, yet are they turned about with a very 
small helm, whithersoever the governor listeth. 
Even so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth 
great things. Behold, how great a matter a little 
fire kindleth! And the tongue is a fire, a world of 
iniquity: so is the tongue among our members, 
that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire 
the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell. For 
every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and 
of things in the sea, is tamed, and hath been tamed 
of mankind : but the tongue can no man tame; it 
is an unruly evil, full of deadl}^ poison." 



Necessity the Mother of Invention. 

The small dwellings of the missions often worked 
a great inconvenience. The advantages of courting 
especially lacked completeness. Many a young 
man had to postpone what he had in his heart for 
a more suitable occasion than was offered at the 
time. It seemed to me that courting under the cir- 
cumstances was a very awkward business, and I 
wondered that so many people got married. I will 
now relate a case which my own eyes saw, showing 
how a young man was put to invention in order to 
get a chance to tell the idol of his heart how much 
he loved her. I had already observed that he was 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 161 

restless, and that the general conversation was not 
the kind he desired. I had not perceived, however, 
that he was so deeply absorbed in one idea. At last 
he had a thought; it was a bright one — a thought 
of policy. Said he: "Parson, can you sing?" "Not 
much," said I. "0 1 do love singing so much!" 
said he. " I do wish you w^ould sing for us a little." 
Said I: "If you will join in and help me, I shall not 
object to singing myself; for I am fond of music as 
w^ell as yourself, but such as I always make unas- 
sisted I have never admired.'^ "I can't sing to do 
any good," said he; "however, I will help you all I 
can." I thought he had proposed fair enough; so I 
began to sing one of our songs of Zion. But look 
yonder! that strategic young man of the West has 
moved closer to his arnica delicm. I sing on as 
though I had taken no notice of his action. Who 
has a heart so hard that he wouldn't give a young 
man a chance when in such a strait? It is but 
kindness and charity which should dwell in the soul, 
so I sung on, and they chattered on. I was not fond 
of the music, but I knew they were fond of the oppor- 
tunity it afforded; so was I, for it looked a little 
funny. Young Methodist preachers are not gener- 
ally so grave but that occasionally they indulge in 
bits of pleasant humor. I was determined the en- 
joyment should not all be on their side. But the 
song is finally finished, and with it their chattering. 
They glance about with rather foolish, absent looks. 
But this tyro of Cupid comes at me again: "Fine, 
fine, parson ! " said he ; "I do think you have such a 
splendid voice. Will you please sing for us again? " 
11 



1C2 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

Away I went again with another of our hymns, but 
I fear not with religious veneration. He moved 
his chair a little closer, and the chattering w^as re- 
newed; only she talked less, half hung her head 
down with a semi-o'possum grin on her face. I 
knew she was more than half pleased; but still she 
fain must study a little. It is fashionable, and 
fashion is imperial ; though no doubt her mind was 
made up long ago. But by and by my voice ceases 
to sound in music strains. "Better, better still, 
is n't it. Miss Mat?' said this hero at his game, and 
continuing, said: "I think the parson sings so well. 
I hope, sir, you will favor us with another song, for 
it is splendid." Who wouldn't sing for such a nice, 
appreciative young man? It would, indeed, be a 
hard heart that would not show charity and pulsate 
in sympathy. Yes, I sung for him again; but by 
the time I had finished, they had very much ceased 
to talk, and w^ere looking with thoughtful, medi- 
tative eyes into a bright, blazing fire. The work, 
as I supposed, was finished. He appeared to be 
absent-minded; for he neither praised my last sing- 
ing nor asked me to sing again. He had stormed 
the fort and ravished a heart under the music of the 
singing parson, w^ho the old ladies said never could 
sing. Two faiths were plighted; two hearts were 
united in one; they only had to wait an opportune 
day to execute the nuptials. Whether ever after- 
ward my voice w^as so musical to him, I know not, 
but rather think it was not. 

I went on my way around the missions; but on 
my return, this young man came to me and requested 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 1G3 

that I should perform the matrimonial service. He 
stated that I was the choice of both, and that they 
had postponed wedlock, waiting for my return. 
When I told him I could not do it — being not yet 
ordained — he looked sorrowful. '' But come, now," 
said I, " be an honest man ; did you not fix up this 
business the day I sung for you?" "Well, parson," 
said he, "I reckon I shall have to confess." 



A Singular Phenomenon. 

I take no pleasure in carrying my narrative into 
the marvelous, and shall not do it any farther than 
the scenes and incidents of the missions will bear me 
out. There are now living witnesses to what I am 
about to relate. I give it a place in my narrative, 
because it is true, every word of it. It was Sunday. 
I had preached at eleven o'clock in Brother Jones's 
neighborhood, whose name I have already given 
such a conspicuous place. Following it up, I had a 
twilight appointment, for the same day, six or eight 
miles to the south-west. On my arrival, which was 
some time before night, I found a Methodist preacher, 
recently from Arkansas, and a Presbyterian preacher, 
from some miles distant, had united their efforts and 
were holding a protracted-meeting at the place. A 
brush-arbor had been built against the side of a 
dwelling, so that a preacher standing in the door 
could talk to the people in the house and under the 
arbor at the same time. 

I told those brethren that inasmuch as I wou^ld 
have to be going the next day, just to go on with 
their meeting, conduct it to the best of their judg- 



164 FIVE YEARS IN THE V/EST. 

ment, and that I would not interfere with them. 
But they insisted earnestly that I should fill my ap- 
pointment for the evening. I felt a deep seriousness 
and a strong desire to do good, for these brethren 
had already, through grace, worked up a deep seri- 
ousness among the people. Our lights were but 
dimly burning, yet it was a beautiful starlight night. 
I preached with unusual liberty, as much as I had 
ever experienced, or more perhaps. The congre- 
gation appeared attentive and solemn. All of a 
sudden, and most unexpectedly, there shone a soft 
light. It came with a sudden flash and then grad- 
ually died away. I suppose from first to last it occu- 
pied four or five seconds. Every face of the audience 
instantly became distinctly visible, as if lit up with 
phosphorescent rays. Many of the people sprung 
to their feet, and there was a general staring gaze 
and cry of wonder from the people all around, both 
in the house and under the arbor. It afi:ected both 
saint and sinner. The occasion was one of awful 
solemnity. As it went off, the congregation ap- 
peared to be bathed in tears, and overcome almost 
to helplessness. I felt much overawed and overcome 
myself at the strange sight. I called for penitents. 
They came, and bowed where they were. It was 
the only occasion I ever saw in which everybody 
wanted religion, and was publicly striving for it. 
For awhile there was no singing, no exhorting, no 
leading any way in regular order. But by and by 
the spell on the people began to break and the 
people to govern themselves, but still with deep 
solemnity. 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 165 

J^ow, I have simply given the facts appertaining to 
this strange phenomenon. I have only a few times 
mentionedwt to any one, because of the existing in- 
credulity the world has for such things. I once since 
saw a sight which I think furnishes a key that un- 
locks the mystery. It was also on a beautiful star- 
light night. A light shone suddenly all about me, 
and the whole section of the country appeared to be 
lit up by it. It gradually, and not suddenly, died 
away. When it first flashed on my vision, I threw 
my eyes toward the sky, and there directly in front 
of me, at an angle of about fifty degrees, was the 
plainly visible track of a blazing meteor, which had 
not yet finished its course. It burned with less and 
less brilliancy until it ceased to blaze altogether, and 
then the long glowing line it left gradually died 
away. It was a good reminder of the phenomenon 
that appeared on the night of the meeting referred 
to. I am inclined to think this was the way of it; and 
thus it may be accounted for on natural principles. 

Granting this view of the subject to be true, that 
meteor would no doubt have fallen that night at the 
same time and place, and marked the same line in 
its passage, had there been no meeting appointed. 
The people might have all been in their beds, and 
the phenomenon passed unobserved; or some lone 
traveler might have been the only witness, and could 
tell the people the strange sight he saw. But how- 
ever it may be, one thing I do earnestly believe, and 
that is that God often turns the happenings of nat- 
ure to good account. A little superstition is some- 
times favorable to godliness, and I shall not be sur- 



166 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

prised if in eternity the fact is revealed that some 
souls were saved through the phenomenon of that 
night. 

Mischievous Turn to Call the People Out. 

I am no strategist, yet I know many of other de- 
nominations and some of our own w^ho are. They 
study well the policy of calling the people out tQ 
their meetings. They make many strategic move- 
ments. They are best known as sensationalists. 
The preacher who gets the most people to hear him 
does not always do the most good. He may have 
the power of awakening the curiosity and novelty of 
the people, by announcing his subjects beforehand, 
and yet the whole of the proceedings may not be ac- 
companied with the solemnity and reverence due the 
worship of Almighty God. Whether it be proper or 
not to announce subjects generally beforehand, is an 
open question. One thing we do know — it was not 
the apostolic manner, nor did Christ command it. 
However, in my young ministerial days, while out 
on the missions, I tried it once, and only once. I 
believe I had occasion which required it. 

At one of my appointments, rather a dense settle- 
ment, and quite in from the border, the people would 
not come out to meeting — only a few, very few. 
This was harassing to the young preacher, of course, 
w^ho alwa^'s thinks he has something to say that 
everybody ought to hear. This notion I had not 
yet outlived, and therefore I began to cast about 
how I should manage to get the people out to hear 
me. Finally, I resolved on announcing a strange 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 167 

subject, and give them a touch of sensationalism. 
Accordingly, I announced to them that "at my next 
regular round a stranger to many of them would 
preach on the subject of the first murderer." The few 
that were there looked at each other and whispered 
a little, on the mere announcement. I only added: 
"Important subject. Please make it known in the 
neighborhood." To all their inquiries about "who 
is he going to preach on that subject, and who was 
the first murderer," I only answered, "Just be pa- 
tient, wait and see." 

An old lady remarked, rather knowingly, that she 
knew who was the first murderer. "Why, he was 
Cain; for he killed his brother; and they belonged 
to the first family." Being afraid this view of the 
old lady might lull them into quiet on the subject, I 
remarked that "the man who would preach at my 
next round denied that." "Well," said she, "I do 
not know who on earth it can be, if it was n't Cain, 
for I never heard of Adam killing anybody; but 
I'll hear him anyhow when he comes, and if I ain't 
right, then I'll know." 

I saw it was a " hit." I left them, and was so oc- 
cupied that I thought little more of it until I had 
come around again to within a few days of the 
place. I then reviewed my subject, which I had 
been at some pains to prepare for the occasion. I 
intended to do my best, and build up, if possible, a 
good congregation ; for there had in those days crept 
into me that which slyly creeps into most young 
preachers during their first years — a large idea of 
personal ability and merit; and if the people would 



168 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

only come out, see it, and be convinced, there would 
never be vacant seats when they preached. 

At last the day came, the hour; and as I came 
in sight I saw what I had never seen before at that 
place — horses hitched all about; more horses and 
more people than I thought were in that country. 
Said a brother to me, as I stepped to the door of the 
little log school-house: "I thought a man was going 
to preach here to-day on the subject of the first mur- 
derer." I responded: "I think he will; hasn't he 
come?'^ And as I passed on, I heard him say, 
"IN'ot as I have seen." I lost no time; I knew it 
wouldn't do. I went down into my "treasury de- 
partment," and was at it before the people could 
think. 

My text was John viii. 44: '•^He was a murderer 
from the beginning.'^ When I read the text, there was 
a general look that told plainly they were sold. I^o 
people can bear a good joke or keep their equipoise 
better, under such circumstances, than the people 
in the West. If any one had got mad, I would 
have had no fighting to do; for many would have 
taken my part. It is far the best always to take a 
joke in good humor. Of course I said nothing of 
the context which might perhaps applj^ to them. 
The "ye" I left out entirely, and confined myself 
strictl}' to the person contained in the text — "the 
first murderer," the devil. After descanting on his 
fighting Michael, and other probable evil deeds he 
had wrought in the moral universe, I took rather a 
Miltonic view of his entry into our world, and how 
on account of his agency sin has corrupted Qwevy 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 169 

heart. In conclusion, I exhorted them to make a 
good warfare against the evil machinations of this 
first and greatest murderer in the universe; to obey 
the injunction of the apostle, and not "forsake the 
assembling of themselves together, as the manner of 
some is;" that in this course there is safety. 

As I passed out, a good-natured elderly gentleman 
took me by the hand and said: "Well, my friend, 
ain't you going to announce for us again." "i^ot 
this time," said I, and went on. But may be you 
want to know if my congregation kept up at that 
place. I answer it did; at least for one more ap- 
pointment, for it was never my good luck to meet 
with those people but once more, which was at my 
next regular round. I was greeted with a large 
congregation and treated with most courtly manners. 
The year was drawing to a close. This was my first 
effort at sensationalism. Though it resulted well, 
yet I must say I am not fond of such experiments. 



The Strait of the Young Preacher in 
Administering a Reproof, 
This is one of the hardest duties the preacher is 
ever called on to perform. He should bear patiently 
and much before he attempts it. Yet it sometimes 
becomes necessary. When this is the case, it should 
be done tenderly, in love, and in such a Christian 
spirit as to make the guilty party heartily ashamed 
of himself, and not hate the preacher. I have known 
most uncharitable rebukes to fall from the lips of 
those whom I regarded as good men. The fruit that 
followed was the extremest hate. 



170 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

In the West, my patience was never much taxed 
on this score. The people there generally behave 
well when at a religions meeting. They are every 
whit as orderly as in the older States. If I wanted 
to find order in religious assemblies, veneration for 
the service, and respect for God, I would never leave 
the trans-Mississippi department of the United States 
to find it. Yet cases do sometimes occur, and should 
be reproved. When they are a necessity, the preacher 
should have courage to exercise his prerogative un- 
der the law and his duty in the proper spirit. But 
the trouble with me in those days, as I suppose, was 
the same as that with most young preachers. It 
breaks the line of thought, and therefore tends to 
disaster. Indeed, in those days, I had no time for 
it, and dreaded the rising occasion. 

The subject to whom I shall call your attention 
was a little girl who thought she was grown, and 
frisked about on her seat and talked at a wonderful 
rate. She was the veriest imp of a disturber I have 
ever met. May be she was grown ; at least she thought 
she was. But she was small, very small for a grown 
lady. The subject of my discourse was an impor- 
tant one; at least I thought it was more than ordina- 
rily so. It was on this account that I was as anx- 
ious for the people to hear as this little disturber 
was to frisk about on her seat and talk. Her ma- 
neuvering, however, divided the attention of the 
people. I w^anted to shut her mouth and keep her 
quiet on her seat, but I was so poised on my subject 
that I had no time to administer a reproof in w^ords. 
It just seemed to me that I could not stop without 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 171 

suffering a disaster. But still that little mouth had 
to stop, and that frisking motion must become quiet. 
While profoundly absorbed in the thought and labor 
of my sermon, I began slowly and unconsciously to 
move out in my congregation, until I found myself 
directly in front of this troublesome little girl. I 
was still poised on my subject, though full twelve 
feet from my proper place, throwing the gospel di- 
rectly into her face with all the vehemence of my 
soul, as though this was the fort Satan had erected, 
and that should be stormed — this his stronghold to 
be pulled down. The reproof was successful. The 
stream of her words ceased, and she sat like a statue. 
I gradually worked myself back to my proper place, 
so that by the time the discourse Avas finished, the 
minds of the hearers were distracted from both the 
young lady and my own manner of administering a 
reproof. 

It all presents to my mind now a touch of the 
novel. It is by no means a manner I have kept up. 
I would not recommend it. It sprung as a sponta- 
neity out of the straitened mental state of the young 
preacher. It was not in this instance without its 
proper good fruit. It made a well-behaved young 
lady out of that rude girl. It did more for her than 
all the dancing-schools in the land — more than all the 
semi-barbarous notions of etiquette that have been 
introduced into civilization. Before I left the mis-^ 
sions, she became a member of the Church, along 
with her parents. 



172 five years in the west. 

The Stiff Preacher. 

The people in the West, and especially on these 
missions, were remarkable for their plainness of 
speech as well as of dress. They kept themselves 
decent enough, but were altogether careless about 
fashion. They detested nothing more than a stiff 
manner, puffed-up look, or self- arrogance. They 
liked pliability in a man — one who could adapt him- 
self without trouble or apparent restraint to exist- 
ing circumstances. The business of the preacher, 
as they regarded it, was to convert them from their 
vices to Christ. This they liked in him. But to 
reproach them for their manners was like invading 
with an evil eye their most sacred precincts. It 
built a wall of partition between him and them, and 
of course put an end to his usefulness among them. 
A preacher laboring among such people must of % 
necessity study adaptability. Should he go with the 
faint semblance of imperialism, he will find himself 
soon ousted. He need not sacrifice proper etiquette 
and become rude. N"o; he may labor with them for 
a year, and, if any thing, come out improved in man- 
ners, for he is sure to be improved in understanding. 
He may often find a warm heart bound round with 
a buckskin coat, or a broad brain covered with a 
wolf-skin cap. They only want a man to lay aside 
the unnecessary and troublesome etiquette of the 
age, along with its false ideas. They love true po- 
liteness, the conventionalities built on a broad com- 
mon sense, but detest nothing more than false ap- 
pearances. The influence of some preachers in the 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 173 

West has been destroyed because they were artless 
in adaptation. 

I will illustrate this case now in hand b}^ an anec- 
dote. A preacher whom I knew% and who had trav- 
eled a portion of the work before I had, made his 
mark with some of the people, and especially with 
an old-like lady. Alluding to his predecessor, said 

she, '' Do you know preacher B ? " " Yes," said 

I, '' he and I are wellacquainted." " Where does he 
live?" said she. I answered, designating the place. 
Said she, " Where was he raised? '^ I gave the place. 
"Isn't he rich?" said she. I answered, "N'o, but 
he has a competency." " Is there any thing the mat- 
ter with his back?" said she very inquiringly, as 
though I could give the required information by my 
intimate acquaintance with him. I answered: " Xo; 
I have never heard there was any thing the matter 
w^ith his back. But why do you ask me all these 

questions of Brother B ? " " Because," said she, 

"he is the stiffest man that ever visited these parts." 



How THE YouxG Preacher Got Cheated Out of 
A Sermon. 
A young preacher has sometimes to pay for his 
carelessness, and profit by the lesson. I remember 
once being in very ill luck and cleverly cut out of a 
sermon on this account: I had got in on Saturday 
evening where I was to preach on* Sunday. The 
morning in the early part of the day proved to be 
rather rainy — just such as in the West would entice 
one to put on some of his worst clothes. On account 
of the rain and a little exposure in it, I had put on an 



174 KIVK VKAKS FN TIIK WKST. 

silpjicjisowoin ;uhIji1)11hc(1 by ago that tlicwouder' with 
mo lunv "iH why I liad it along at all ; hut I had it Horrio- 
how Rtowod away in my "tin^asury d(;j)artmoMt," and 
had ilia! morning pulled it out from its "lurking- 
pliu'O." I ho(!ame meditative, and thought no moi-o 
of it. 

Al: hiHl, tlie lioiii" came lor pr(;;i('liing, and I nroHO 
in the dwelling whei'e I staid all night, and was bo- 
foro my aucruMuu', i'cH^ling improsscMl with llio im- 
jiortancc^ ol" my subject and its great worth to liu- 
man souls. tSlowly, solomidy, and with measured 
om]>hasis, Tannouneod \ny text: "Now abidoth faith, 
liope, charity; these threes; ])ut tho groatost of these 
is oharity." Just at the close of this announcement, 
I ]ui|»]»oned to look down, and saw my seedy old 
al[»aca. '^fhen began the struggle as to wlictlier I 
would preach or not. In very small things are 
Bomotimos involved gi-eat issues and mighty strug- 
gles. The movements of an insiutt nerved again tho 
lieai't, of one of Scotland's chic^fs, and led the way to 
gloi-ious ti'iuni{>h; but this was leading to inevita- 
ble and inglorious failures; and yet the gospel is just 
as im[)oi-ta.nt as Scotch libei'ty. I thought, "Surely 
my congregation will tliink I am begging," for the 
old al}>aca was openly l)efore their eyes as an index- 
finger, with its brown age, rcntH and Bhreds, i>()int- 
ing to the thouglits in my mind. Well, for once I 
felt tliat I either had the wrong text or else the 
wrong coat; but how to make a eliango I could not 
tell. I was not of the Ilard-HJicll i)or8uasion, or else 
I might liave i)ulled off the old thing and have laid 
it on tlie back of a cluiir, as when a l)oy I used to see 



FIVE YEARS IX THE WEST. 175 

the Baptists in Kentucky pull oft* their heavy mixed 
jean coats, when preaching on a hot summer day. 

O the young preacher has so many trials and vex- 
ations! lie is able to bear them and endure simply 
because he is young and ambitious. I thought, as I 
began, my congregation were indulging in a smile — 
not at my mental state, but at the idea of preaching 
charity by costume. I went on somehow or other, 
in a crippled way, and filled in a full half hour. I 
have no doubt but that day I largely emulated the 
example of some preachers I have seen, who neither 
filled in the stops with solemn stillness nor "Selah," 
but with clearing their throats. All my efforts to 
bring out the idea of love as contained in the text 
seemed to rne fruitless, since my congregation could 
plainly see that it was only digging about the base 
on which that idea of charity in their minds stood, 
and out of which it grew. It made no difference in 
what phase I presented the text, the old alpaca 
stood most prominently before my eyes, and as 
I thought before the eyes of my congregation. 
When I was done, I did not know what I had said. 
I knew I did not say what I intended before I began. 

At last I quit, feeling more as I did when I preached 
that remarkable sermon from the first Psalm, in the 
section of country Avhere my friend "Jesse" lived, 
than ever at any other time. But at this place I had 
no friend "Jesse" to help me out by singing. There 
was an old lady in the congregation at this place 
who generally helped me to sing. If ever I needed 
her help, it was at this time; but she would not help 
me. When I dismissed the congregation, I re- 



176 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

proachecl lier for not helping me to sing.' She add- 
ed, "I do always help you when you have the tune/' 
Although I knew I could not sing Avell, and was 
conscious that I did sometimes leave the proper tune 
for one of my own — always by accident, however, 
and not from choice — yet this remark of the old lady 
put the whole machinery of my being in bad work- 
ing order for the remainder of the day. Her senti- 
ment was neither romance nor poetry; yet to be so 
mercilessly pounded, when already murdered and 
dead, reminded me of the savageness of Indian rule. 
But I had already learned to endure, and a little of 
the art of being alive when I was dead. Neither the 
pounding the old lady gave me nor the promise of 
a new coat one brother made me was sufficient to 
kill me entirely. A young preacher, you see, can 
endure a great deal after he has had time for a litt.le 
training. In the revolution of my thoughts, I was 
satisfied that I w^ould recover from the shock, and 
live to see a better day. The lesson of that day was 
as valuable to me as the lessons in Clark's Manual, 
which was in my year's course of study. It caused 
me to watch myself more vigilantly, not only in my 
dress, but also in my general deportment. I deter- 
mined to look more thoroughly into the principles 
of music, and labor harder than ever before to im- 
prove my voice, so as to make endurable melody 
when singing. Some of those things which hap- 
pened to me were not pleasant at the time, yet I am 
now glad that they came up in my history, for they 
were profitable lessons. We sometimes drink a bit- 
ter cup, but it cures disease. 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 177 

But I cannot leave this subject without a word of 
adieu to the old alpaca. It is properly due to it, 
since it is the last one I ever wore. Our likes and 
dislikes of things come often from our experiences. 
You know the bees s\ung me badly once, when I 
was a little boy playing in the yard. On this ac- 
count I could not endure their honey for many years. 
I never liked the spots where I had sad experiences, 
when a boy. I do not like alpaca coats — never wear 
them. Now, since I have left them off, I remember 
they were always too hot in summer and too cold in 
winter. If any young preacher wants the heat to 
break out on him, just let him try one a little exposed 
to the sun on a hot summer day. The remains of the 
old alpaca lie near about the spot where I failed in 
my sermon on charity. I never allowed it to go with 
me any farther on the mission work, and creep out 
and do mischief on rainy days. 



Some Disadvantages. 
Many of the people on the missions lived in small 
houses — very small, often but one room. I often 
thought they ought to do better. They, many of 
them at least, could have done much better than they 
did. A single room for cooking, eating, warming, 
and sleeping, with a rather numerous household, 
was certainl}^ not pleasant to the family, if at all cul- 
tivated, and far less so to the stranger who was com- 
pelled to seek shelter for the night; yet sometimes 
even the stranger and weary traveler thanked God 
for the comforts such a place afforded. In the West, 
of course the young preacher always did the best he 

12 



178 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

could for himself; yet, notwithstanding his best ef- 
forts to find accommodation, he was bound to deem 
h i m sel f u n fo rtu n ate. 

I will give but a single view of the disadvantages 
among man^^ on these missions; and from this index 
inference may be drawn of the strait into which 
many poor but decent people were sometimes forced, 
and the consequent punishment they endured. They 
visited the same as the people in the older settle- 
ments. Many of them Avashed themselves, put on 
clean clothes, and looked decent on Sunday. Just 
think of Sunday morning coming, and the young 
men wanting to appear clean and in their best suits 
before their " sweethearts ! " Now, watch them pre- 
pare, will you? Perhaps a Texas blue IN'orther is 
blowing. Such a thing is neither uncommon nor 
unlikely. They stand prominently among the many 
happenings of the West. These young men, called 
*'boys," may wash, and even have w^arm w^ater, at 
the door of the little cabin home; but see them now 
again going off, each Avith a wdiite shirt and his Sun- 
day suit on his arm. Where are they going? Either 
to a place under the hill or, which is more likely, to 
the shedded rail-pen — there, when the thermometer 
is half way to zero, to strip and shiver until the un- 
tidy garb of a week's wear can be exchanged for 
a brighter suit, one that will be very pleasing to 
those whom their hearts delight to see. This is 
no fancy sketch, nor is the picture overdrawn. 
Now, this way of doing seems to be a necessity 
with some, yet only a few in comparison with the 
number who indulge in it. As I have renuirked, 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 179 

most of them could do much better. How so many 
could live years and years this way, without mend- 
ing or trying to mend their ways, was always a won- 
der to me. I do not indorse the old adage that "it 
takes all kinds of people to make the world," but I 
believe about all kinds are in it; but some of the 
kinds not of necessity. 



The Ungoverned Family. 
To have to live on a puncheon floor will remind 
the old people of this day of the stories their fathers 
told them of pioneer days in some of the older States. 
Under such disadvantages the people could not be as 
comfortable, nor as easily train their children to 
good manners, as when circumstances are more fa- 
vorable; yet many could have done much better 
than they did, notwithstanding all the disadvan- 
tages of frontier life. I remember spending a night 
once with a family which lived eastward of the mis- 
sions, the father of which was a man of some pre- 
tensions, and for many ^^ears had been a licensed 
preacher, but had never graduated to orders. He 
had a remarkable library for a man of his class, 
though he never read it — thinking to have knowl- 
edge in his house was sufficient, without the trouble 
of getting it into his brain. He was often guilty of 
a half-spitting, silly laugh through his teeth, which 
when once seen by sensible people always marked 
him as a man whose inherent possibilities would 
never raise him above the plane of a very common 
man. Yet he was honest and compromising to a 
fault; a blacksmith b}- trade, as well as a preacher; 



180 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

allowing his customers to say how much they should 
pay him for the work he did for them, which in 
many cases was a very meager sum — not enough to 
raise him off the inimitable rickety puncheon floor 
on which he was raising his rather numerous family. 
Ilis preaching of course was not wise, yet a few- 
people, silly like himself, bragged on him; which, 
however, never reached his own ears without induc- 
ing the silly laugh, that all decent people like to 
avoid. 

This man's compromising spirit entered largely 
into his own household arrangements; for the man 
who had not the courage to assess his customers and 
vindicate the claims of his muscle would naturally 
lack the courage to correct his own children. Though 
they had a father, yet they had to be reared without 
one; for to the eye of the visitor or stranger, they, 
the father and the children, all appeared to be boys 
together, enjoying equal rights and privileges; the 
only discoverable difference was one was bearded 
and showed more the marks of age. Yet this man, 
true to the custom of a preacher, held his family 
prayers; for he had a heart, though not a way, to 
be obedient in the Church, and to rear his "children 
in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." 'No 
doubt many funny and some sad and lamentable 
things happened, and as quickly were forgotten, in 
his family worship, and other attempts at family 
government, as is illustrated in the following ac- 
count. 

As I said, I w^as with this family once for a night. 
I felt pained in my heart when I saw the mixed way 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 181 

in which parents and children got along. I thought 
he needed the severest rebuke, and that power to 
govern should be driven into him some way, even 
though it might appear after a sledge-hammer 
fashion, like an Irishman driving spikes into rail- 
road ties; but being young myself, I did not deem 
it proper to appear in the ofhce of such an adminis- 
trator. But the hour arrived for prayers, and of 
course I had to lead. Thin2:s went on well enouofh 
until we bent our knees in worship, for I, being a 
stranger, was a sort of novelty to the family of 
children, who on this account took up more time 
in gazing, and therefore put in less with their capers. 
But early in our prayer a rat had found its way up 
through the puncheon floor into the room where we 
were all on our knees, and found it verj^ difficult to 
get back again. The boj^s were always ready, and 
never lost an opportunity when there was a chance 
for amusement or fun. They had sufficient training 
not to forget they w^ere at prayers, and no one pre- 
sumed to get off his knees. The rat in the room 
was intensely exciting to the boys. They took all 
liberty in the chase except to get off their knees. 
The first large whisper I heard ^was, "Dick, did 
you stop the hole?'' Then commenced the sport 
with the boys in earnest. Hear them: "There he 
comes, Joe; catch him!" "Look out, Ben; I seen 
him there by you ! '" " Kun him this way, Dick; I '11 
fix him!" These and such like loud whispers go 
round and round. At the same time they pushed 
their chairs and ran on their knees. For did it 
cease until about the time the "amen" was pro- 



182 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

iiounced, at which time the rat had found his way 
out again. I did expect for once that this father 
would give those, as I regarded, not rude but neg- 
lected boys a solemn lecture; but not a word fell 
from his lips to them. He looked toward me, and 
with his silly laugh through his teeth, remarked: 
"Didn't the boys get into a tantrum?" Whether 
this brother was right or not in his use of the word 
tantrum^ I did not stop to discuss. It was not now a 
question over a word, but of principle. There was 
a spirit of manhood in me, and it was rising to meet 
this emergency. Though no general sermon-reader, 
yet I remembered that Wesley had a sermon on 
family government. I knew he had Wesley's ser- 
mons in his library. Said I: " My brother, will you 
have patience to hear me read a sermon?" He said 
he would. I then drew down from the shelf the 
book, and read to him Wesley's sermon on training 
children. When I finished it, I simply added: "My 
brother, you are neglecting j^our children, and they 
may come to ruin." The wife of this man had been 
patient through all the proceedings until now. I 
saw she was anxious and determined to say some- 
thing, and I was in dread lest she might turn her 
tongue on me for the liberty I used toward her 
husband, and that I would have to look like a 
galley-slave. But no; in this I was disappointed 
most agreeabl}^ Said she, turning her eyes on her 
husband: "Wesley is right, and you are wrong. I 
have told you for a long time these boys would be 
hanged some day; and that will be a sad time to you, 
when you know that you will be the cause of it. I 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 183 

have tried and tried to govern them, hut I cannot 
govern them by m3'self, and there is just no use in 
trying any longer. You have just got to govern, or 
else you will find trouble ahead." Here the good 
wife broke down with her closing remarks, as women 
sometimes do. She was evidently fretted, and saw 
full well the folly and danger of neglect in family 
government. The husband held his headdown like 
a repenting sinner. Even the children for once 
looked solemn. I verily believe if a rat had ob- 
truded on the puncheon floor it w^ould not have 
broken the stillness. 

It was an occasion, such as one might desire, to 
sow good seed. The ground was well prepared. I 
tried to make the time profitable, and as well as I 
remember said: "My dear brother and sister, it is 
not too late. Only be mutual helps to each other. 
Spend a few minutes each day in friendly, private 
talk about your children and how they should be 
trained. Remember the claims Heaven has on you, 
and how you will have to give an account for your 
folly and neglect. Be strict, not severe. Be parents; 
not like a master and mistress, domineering over 
your children as though they were slaves. Study 
well the future interest of your children, and God 
will bless you and help you bring them up in his nurt- 
ure and admonition." These remarks closed the 
evening. I believe they did good. 1 trust with 
better hearts we all retired to rest. O what a power 
there is in words! What a stream of good or evil 
flows from them! Anacharsis, the Scythian, said: 
*' Words are more vivifying than the showers of 



184 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

spring, and sharper than the sword of destruction." 
Solomon sa^^s: "A word fitly spoken is like apples 
of gold in pictures of silver." 



DiSMISSfING THE MISSIONS, ETC. 

But I at last began to close up my work on the 
missions, and to make preparation for the ensuing 
Conference. In reference to the preceding sketches 
and anecdotes, I must say they are as true as I have 
language to narrate them. My object has not been 
to give them a burnished or gilded appearance, but 
to stick closely to the facts in the case of each one, 
using language only clever enough not to make 
you weary in hearing them. Now, while such 
things might be continued to farther length, I pro- 
pose to break the monotony, and proceed with the 
closing up of the mission work. I left the work 
organized with twenty-five appointments. A few 
of those taken in at first were dropped off on ac- 
count of good reasons, and others were added, so 
that the above-named number stood at the close of 
the year. I had preached a little more than one 
hundred times after the order of my ability, and 
had traveled on the work, according to my best 
count, upward of three thousand miles. I found 
many warm-hearted people, and made many friends. 
Toward the last I felt remarkably contented with 
myself. I had made it a point to lose no appoint- 
ment — to do the work of a preacher as best I could. 
In order to this, I put aside personal convenience 
and inclination, and went through heat and cold, 
well fed or hungry, housed at night in the little 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 185 

cabin of the frontiersman or canopied by the tent 
of the immigrant, preaching, traveling, visiting, 
talking to the children — which was always an easy 
and pleasant task with me; sometimes wearied, but 
never out of humor; sometimes wet, but always 
got dry again; sometimes in tears, but they always 
ceased to flow. Thank God for tears! a hundred 
times they carried me out of the darkness of night 
into the beautiful day-dawn. 

Leaving the missions was like leaving friends 
again at home. I was greatly afraid I would not be 
sent back; yet I know not why. There was no 
good accommodation — not a house on the entire 
work built exclusively for preaching. I had not 
seen any thing called a pulpit since I had been out. 
It was, I suppose, a hard work, though I did not 
know it at the time. It was a place to be exposed, 
to sacrifice, and to suffer. Your preacher- boy was 
only passing through what many others were bear- 
ing at the same time. Here I learned to endure, 
for I had a nature that would not revolt. I became 
a minister of the gospel honestly, and, as I under- 
stand, in obedience to God's will. He planted me 
there, and only once was I tempted to desert the 
cause. But he provided for me even then. I had 
learned to preach after my own style now without 
much trouble. I had received twenty dollars solid 
gold missionary money. I had received along-side 
of this from the people— in the way of boots, hats, 
tobacco, and other things, with a few dollars mixed 
along— thirty-nine dollars and twenty-five cents. 
My wages received aggregated fifty-nine dolhirs and 



186 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

twenty-five cents; yet I was not discouraged, but 
was ready to go to Conference. I went as well clad 
as the average preacher, for I had plenty notwith- 
standing — a pleasant ranch with some increasing 
and growing stock, on which I could draw any day. 
I was prosperous, notwithstanding all my reverses. 
But I will not dismiss the missions until I refer to 
a little circumstance by which I became convinced 
that I had made improvement. I had not been out 
on the missions long before I conceived the idea of 
writing a few sermons, to be used on extra occa- 
sions. Before the year closed, I had a little manu- 
script volume of twelve sermons. I felt very proud 
of these. Several of them I thought sufficiently wor- 
thy to be preached anywhere and in any place. I 
had drawn on that manuscript volume several times, 
as the year w^as going out. One leisure day, toward 
the last of the work, I thought I would do as I sup- 
pose young preachers have often done — select and 
prepare one of my best sermons, and hold it in readi- 
ness, laid aside; for may be I might be called on to 
preach at Conference. So I concluded to spend that 
day among the thoughts contained in my manuscript 
volume. I soon had it out from among the other 
things I had stowed away in my "treasury depart- 
ment," was glad of the opportunity, and opened it 
for a real treat. I began to read and look at the 
divisions I had made. I was not "well pleased. I 
tried to reconcile my thoughts with the status of the 
manuscript, but my thoughts would be revolution- 
ary — my mind would not endure it. I tried one 
sermon after another, all with the same dislike. The 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 187 

very things I once appreciated in them most I now 
thought most trifling. The sentiments I once 
thought necessary to give a sermon completeness, 
and set it off with fine, finished touches, appeared 
now most unworthy. I looked on, and found I was 
more rhetorical than profound; that I had imhibed 
a style too bombastic. I became thoroughly dis- 
gusted with my manuscript sermons, and my preach- 
ing generally, and longed for another round on the 
missions, to show the people a different and, as I 
thought, a better style of preaching. I felt like I 
wanted to correct some things, at least. 

I committed that manuscript volume to the flames 
before the going down of the sun — was glad that it 
was the only copy in existence. I was now com- 
pletely revolutionized in my thoughts, and I resolved 
to be more profound, but not less rhetorical. I 
think it all evinced that I had made progress in my 
understanding. 

As is common with many young preachers, I had 
become a little vainglorious — thought more highly 
of myself than I ought; had been drinking all the 
sentiments of praise I could get and longing for 
more, not knowing that those had a tendency more 
to make a fool of a man than to do him good. Be- 
cause some young lawyer said I could beat the pre- 
siding elder preaching, I thought surely if I had not 
already made my mark that I would at least be a 
wonderful man some day. I never failed to drink 
in all the words of flattery I could catch. If any one 
said I was a good preacher, it only confirmed the 
private opinion already existing in my mind, ^ow 



188 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

as I retrospect the past, it all looks like a great 
weakness in me. I found out years afterward that 
the presiding elder could beat rae preaching badly; 
that poor judges, even though they be lawyers, and 
weak-minded people, praise the young preacher. I 
did not remember in after-years that the sensible 
and the wise had ever spoken words that tended to 
excite my vanity — only those who do not know 
what good preaching is, who take vehemence for 
doctrine, and sound for sense. 

But somehow I weathered through this crisis of 
the young preacher, and when among my seniors I 
behaved as decorously as I knew how, whatever the 
inward consciousness I had of myself. I sometimes 
wondered why they did not put me up on the great 
occasions, and let all the people get their eyes open 
like a certain young lawyer, and see that I could in- 
deed beat the presiding elder preaching. Now, my 
dear mother, I know you want the true history of 
your preacher-boy, yet some of it, you see, is not 
praiseworthy of him. Yet I know yoii have the 
wisdom to know the things that try the young 
preacher, and how narrowly he escapes many evils, 
and that the one w^ho graduates to deliberate man- 
hood and sobriety unscathed would be a marvel on 
the pages of history. Your preacher-boy only passed 
through the stages in the ministry that every mother's 
son in the ministr}^ has tried. Many a young preach- 
er, I imagine, has traveled along these paths, and has 
been affected by them. Many more yet unborn in 
the ministry w^ill never see our foot-prints, and there- 
fore, not knowing a way of escape, will be similarly 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 189 

impressed. It is well enough even for a young 
preacher to think well of himself, but by all means 
never be vainglorious and pufted up; for there is 
more hope for a fool than for a man who is wise in 
his own conceit. 

Advice of ak Old Preacher — Going to 
Conference Again. 
On my way to Conference, I fell in company with 
an old preacher, a man whom I had known from 
boyhood, who had found his way to Texas, and who 
knew something of the hardships and trials of the 
frontier as well as myself. He was an itinerant 
of experience, and therefore knew much more of 
Conference business and Conference appointments 
than I did. I had my "treasury department" with 
me, but felt it a little burdensome. It is true, as al- 
ready observed, I had made it lighter by burning up 
that iveighty volume, my manuscript sermons; yet 
it seemed heavy — too heavy, I thought, to be carried 
two hundred and fifty miles on horseback. I sympa- 
thized also with my faithful George, who had already 
one hundred and eighty pounds of mortality to bear, 
and who, notwithstanding, had never once treated 
me unkindly, but who, on the contrary, had been 
with me in perils of the Indians and in perils of the 
cyclone. In view of the distance, and how reason- 
able I thought it was to be sent back to some mis- 
sion or circuit not remote from where I had been, I 
said to my fellow-traveler: "My brother, I believe 
I will lighten my treasury; for I think if I am not 
sent back to the missions I will certainly be sent 



190 PIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

back to some place in this section not very remote." 
This good brother, with the true foresight of a reg- 
ular itinerant, in a fatherly and rather solemn man- 
ner said: " My young brother, let me give you a lit- 
tle advice. You are inexperienced, and do not 
understand Methodist economy yet. You do not 
know what is to become of you. It is all uncertain. 
You may be sent hundreds of miles the other way. 
Kemember this is a large Conference in its territory 
— nearly twice as large as the State you came from. 
The young unmarried preacher lives on horseback 
more than any other. He never needs a wagon. His 
treasury department, as you denominate the historic 
saddle-bags, carries his estate of clothing and books. 
Carry it all along, and be ready. You will have no 
time to come back two hundred and fifty miles for 
things that are left.'^ 

I took this advice with a willing mind. I left 
nothing behind — was determined to go, it made no 
difference where; but still I thought, Surely I will be 
sent back somewhere not far off' from where I had 
been traveling. I was acclimated in that part of the 
great Empire State. I understood the people in that 
section, and regarded myself adapted to them. It 
mio^ht impair my health to be sent into pine wood- 
land districts, or into the southern malarial por- 
tions. These things, I thought, would be seen and 
looked after by the appointing authority. But when 
I consented to take every thing with me, I thought 
but little more of it. 

In going to Conference this time, I felt none of the 
burden bearing on me and pressing me down that 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 191 

I felt one year before. I had been tried, and I was 
fully established in the ministry. I loved it above 
all thino;s. It was my meat and drink now to preach. 
Though I did not do it well, yet I thought I did; 
and in this was my enjoyment. I know I always 
did my best. I was greatly improved — never had 
learned as much in one year in all my life. It ap- 
peared like a poor chance to improve, but the work 
of the missions kept me fully awake. This is the 
proper condition of mind in w^hich to learn. Full em- 
ployment is necessary to development. My knowl- 
edge came in from all sources. I learned from ob- 
servation, from conversation, through prayer, through 
preaching, by studying, and patient endurance. I 
felt quite an easy conscience, and therefore went in 
peace. 

At Conference Again. 

Meeting at Conference was a renewal of old friend- 
ships. Thank God for such reunions! How pleas- 
ant it is to see brethren dwell together in unity! 
How joyous the occasion when brethren meet who 
have not seen each other's faces for a year! How 
pleasant to narrate the incidents, and give sketches 
from life portraiture over a district of country four 
hundred miles across! But how exceedingly lovely 
to tell how through Christ we had assembled again 
in triumph! How rich the pleasure when no one 
has degraded his ministerial character — when no one 
has trailed Immanuel's banner! 

But here is a meeting in which men are tried. 
Joints that are made of clay are sure to fall to pieces. 



192 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

Only true metal will stand the fiery trials through 
which these servants of God are called to pass, and 
on which they are now beginning to enter. The 
whole public heart at this time was getting into the 
throes of the war between the States. It was tear, 
ivar, and of course the Church would suffer. It was 
very evident that the minister had a great charita- 
ble work to do. He had to preserve the Church on 
poor pay. How appropriate the lesson from the 
presiding officer! " We are troubled on every side, 
yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in de- 
spair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but 
not destroyed." It was read deliberately and in 
solemn tone. Then the hymn — 

And are we yet alive, 

And see each other's face? — 

gave unction to the occasion. Yes, we were alive 
who were there, but some had passed over to their 
rich inheritance. Others there were who would 
never meet on another such occasion. It all looked 
solemn. I felt solemn. Many an eye dropped a 
tear. Thank God for tears ! When the body of man 
is dry and scorched with fever, what a relief comes 
when the pores of the skin are opened and nature 
bejj^ins again her regular work! When the soul of 
man is all broken and bruised, if God will only open 
the lachrymal canals, that it may give forth its ac- 
knowledgments through tears to him and to the 
world, a great relief is found. God has provided a 
way for the soul to sweat off' its trouble — "Jesus 
wept." Tears came through the body, but they 
came from the fountain of the soul. how I like a 



FIVE YEAES IN THE WEST. 193 

healthy lachrymal canal and the big sensible tear that 
on proper occasions comes dropping, dropping down 
— pouring out the state of the soul ! It always makes 
a man feel better. But ah ! a fevered body that can- 
not sweat, and a bowed, sorrowing spirit that can- 
not Aveep! Here is pain, here is trouble without re- 
lief. They are both subjects alike of pity. 

Yet I believe the lachrj^mal canal may be un- 
healthy. Chronic tears are as bad as not to weep 
at all, or even worse. There are a few preachers 
who cannot preach for crying; some who hoist their 
flood-gates even when there is no pathos in their pe- 
riods and little reason in their words. It is disgust- 
ing when the narrator of anecdotes does all the 
laughing. It is alike unpleasant when the preacher 
does all the w^eeping. That preacher does well when 
he can open the lachrymals of his congregation first. 
Then it is always legitimate for him to weep along 
with them, if he so desires. 



Beading the Appointments. 
At last the Conference came to a close. The fin- 
ishing stroke always is reading the appointments. 
This exercise never fails to awaken deep interest. 
A district was called, but not the one I was from — 
my name is not mentioned in manning that. Just 
as I expected, they were saving me for the same old 
district. Another district is called, but my name 
had no connection with it. Filially the district I 
was from was called. N'ow I listened. They will 
put me on that somewhere, surely; but somehow 
they missed my name. Finally they came to next 

13 



194 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

to the last district. Every place is named and filled. 
Still my name is left out. " What does it all mean? " 
thought I. " They have called all the country I ever 
heard of, and more too, and yet they have neither 
called my name nor given me a place. Have they 
dropped my name from the roll? Why, surely they 
have. I wonder if in this business they ever over- 
look a fellow entirely. Accidents do happen some- 
times. Surely there is a big mistake somewhere." 
But by and by I stopped these surmisings, and waited 
to hear it all through — remembering a good brother 
as I came down, advising me to take every necessary 
thing with me, said, "You don't know what is to 
become of you." Well, I did n't. But hear. They 
are on the last district. Name after name is called, 
and a preacher is placed. Finall}^ they are all called 
but one. At last the president, in a clear, sonorous 
voice, cries out, "Blank Station ! " Another pause, as 
if looking to find the man, and then in a voice equally 
clear rang out the name of your preacher-boy; and 
this closed the drama of the call. 

I had been in Texas for some time, but had never 
heard of that place. I did not know whether it was 
in Texas or not, but supposed it was. I said meekly 
to a brother sitting by me, "Do you know where 
that station is?" " Ko," said he, "I never hard of 
it before." I moved among the brethren making 
inquiries, for I did not know to which cardinal-point 
it lay. Finally one brother spoke up and said, " Yes, 
I know where it is." "Where?" said I with anx- 
ious inquiry. Said he: "Your station is away down 
yonder so far in Texas that if you make a step south 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 195 

yon will drown in the Gulf of Mexico, and if you 
step east you leave the State entirely. It is a mon- 
strous fishy place." I asked him if he had ever been 
there. He said, '^ No, nor do I care to." Another 
preacher, who I did not know was taking interest in 
our conversation, said: "Have courage, my young 
brother; you will see many novel things down there. 
Ships in abundance, and people from everywhere. 
You will get to 'see old ocean, and hear it roar.' 
You can spend a leisure hour now and then shoot- 
ing alligators and catching fish." " Thank you, my 
good brother," said I; "this is comforting. I think 
I shall like the place. I have always had a desire 
to see 'old ocean.'" Another preacher, as I sup- 
posed to try me, said, "Are you going there?" I 
looked up at him. His lip curled a little humor- 
ously. I made him no reply, for I w^as not ready 
for such thrusts. I could not help feeling a little 
serious. I now fully realized the truth of the good 
brother's instruction: "Take all your things with 
you, for you do not know what is to become of you." 



Thoughts — Rest — Start for the Station. 
My promotion to a station reminded me very much 
of a remark of one of Caesar's soldiers. When this 
soldier, a member of the historic Tenth Legion, was 
temporarily promoted to be a cavalryman for Coesar's 
personal safety during the colloquy he had with 
Ariovistus, he humorously said: '^Flus quani pol- 
licitus esset Coesarem facere; poUicitiim se in cohort- 
is prcetorice loco (lecim.am legionem habiturum; ad 
equum rcscribere.^^ Now, I was evidently promoted, 



19G FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

but neither as a body-guard nor cavalryman for 
Cwsar. While on the missions, I belonged to the 
cavalry arm of the ministry;, but in the station, I 
supposed I would not have much use for a horse. 
But let us look at the character of the promotion. 
It was from missions to a station, from a saddle to a 
footman, from dry lands to much w^ater, from the 
Western wilds four hundred miles south-east to city 
life, from all acquaintanceship to a place among 
strangers, from the back of a chair to a pulpit, from 
the cabins of the frontiersmen to comfortable dwell- 
ings, from ox-teams to steam-ships, from the time 
kept by a watch to the sound of a church-bell. 

I slept soundly through the night, and aw^oke next 
morning much refreshed. I felt exceedingly anxious 
to see how things appeared in the place where I was 
assigned to duty. Earlier than the preachers gen- 
erally, I w^as out on the street, mounted, and inquir- 
ing the w^ay to . One gentleman said, 

"All I know^ about it is, they go south," pointing 
that way. Then it w^as good-by to the seat of the 
Conference, good-by to the few friends I saw, and 
turning the face of George, my faithful and only 
companion, southward, I moved off for the Gulf of 
Mexico, feeling assured that if I saw nobody on the 
way, I could find the place b}^ coasting. I w^as glad 
I had brought all my necessary things with me; for 
to have gone after them would have cost me five 
hundred miles extra riding, and the station in wdiich 
I was assigned to duty a loss of half a month's time. 
I attributed my good luck in this respect to the fore- 
sight and kindly advice of the good brother who 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 197 

told me to take all my things along, and meditated 
much that day upon what he laconically said: ^^You 
do not know what is to become of you.''' 



Observations on the Way. 

Of course the journey was not made without its 
share of novelty and incidents. For several days I 
traveled on horseback. The thing that struck me 
most forcibly was the deep solitude of pine forests. 
How strangely in contrast they were with the short, 
shrubby growth of the cross-woods skirting, and in 
some places edging far into the missions I had left! 
and how much in contrast with the wide, open prai- 
ries in which no forest grove of shrub or tree inter- 
cepts the vision, or interferes with the soft undula- 
tion of hill and vale which there we so often see! 
Upon the traveler unused to it, the deep, dark shades 
of thick, heavy pineries place a spirit of loneliness, 
and upon none perhaps more than upon one who 
has grown accustomed to the bright light of the ex- 
pansive plains in the "far West." 

Finally, however, I came to a place where it was 
necessary for me to change my mode of traveling. 
It was at a place generally called "the Bluff." It 
had a prefix to distinguish the generic term, but this 
w^as the local expression of it. When the skeptic 
with whom I lodged found my destination and bus- 
iness, he became very persistent in his persuasions 
that I did not need a horse down there, stating the 
great price I would have to give for corn, and that 
it would be very expensive to take him along. From 
all I gathered from him and other sources, I became 



198 FIVE YEARS IN THE \VEST. 

convinced that it would not at all pay me to have a 
horse in the station where there was every conven- 
ience for '* boating it" about. But how hard it was 
for me to consent to part with my faithful compan- 
ion, whose service to me T could never reward! But 
by the force of circumstances, and with much regret, 
I resolved to part with a dumb creature between 
whom and mj^self there was the tenderest mutual 
attachment; and on account of this very thing, to- 
gether with the services he rendered me, I have al- 
ways cherished his memory with emotions of pleas- 
ure. I might here speak of a time when probably 
George and I might meet again, and in a renewal of 
our friendship find much mutual pleasure, but I 
have already given you the incident by which in- 
dulging thoughts and giving expression to them on 
this line resulted in evil — even the loss of a congre- 
gation. I therefore make no argument on that line. 
I shall only patiently wait and see the unmeasured 
developments that lie deeply hidden in the mind of 
Him "in whose hand is the soul of every living 
creature." There being no competition in buyers, 
I left my faithful horse in the hands of the skeptic 
with whom I lodged for the night, who, I had evi- 
dences to believe, notwithstanding, treated his horses 
with more kindness than many Christians. I re- 
ceived for him one hundred dollars, as I thought 
only two-thirds of his value. 

Soon after parting with George, I got aboard a 
steam-boat, the Sunflower, Captain Clemmens com- 
manding — a clever, genial officer; one who, so far as 
I could discover, respected God and his cause. On 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 190 

the way clown, I found there was aboard a young 

minister, Brother A . Though he did not go all 

the way, yet we had a pleasant time alternating be- 
tween conversation and shooting at alligators. I 
remained aboard the Sunflower, and took breakfast 
on it next morning, it being late at night when I 
arrived at my station. 



Impbessions of the Place. 

Here I was, on one of the most beautiful morn- 
ings I ever saw, at my destination. My eyes fell 
upon things in strange contrast with all I had ever 
seen before. I heard no caroling of birds to tell me 
the light of day had come again; at least, if there 
were such things, I did not heed them. The music 
that saluted my ears on awaking was " old ocean in 
its roar" — a music as undying as the waters are ex- 
isting, w^hose symphony never ceases day nor night. 
The morning was so beautiful and quiet that all 
alarming symptoms left my mind, and I began to 
feel a readiness to make myself known, and enter 
upon my duty in the place. 

I stepped off the boat alone and "single-handed." 
Every face looked strange to me, and some were talk- 
ing other than the English language. I looked at 
those passing here and there, as if judging human 
nature. Finally my eye struck my man and I hailed 
him. Said I: "Sir, do you know any preachers in 
this place?" "Yes," said he, "I know two, and I 
believe that is all ; one is a Presbyterian and the other 
a Methodist." " Very good," said I, " and thank you. 
Will you please direct me to the Methodist minis- 



200 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

ter's house?" This he did with care, and kindly. 
I therefore soon found myself at a place that felt like 
a home, and for which I devoutly thanked God. 
But this man was greatly afflicted. It was caused 
from exposure while traveling and preaching the 
word. The veins of his legs were so enlarged that 
he could not get about only by keeping them tightly 
laced w^ith slips made for the purpose. This minis- 
ter, however, was a great help to me in getting an 
introduction to the place. 

There were here a battalion of cavalry encamped 
in barracks out southward of the city, if city it might 
be called, for it was a place of only a few hundred 
inhabitants. There was also a fort of earth-works 
below at the mouth of the harbor, and a few com- 
panies of soldiers with an armament of cannon and 
small arms. Lying off the harbor might be seen 
now and then a huge ship called "a blockader," 
watching for any craft that might be attempting 
either to pass out or to come in. The orange-trees 
were rich with their fruit, and the season of ripen- 
ing was at hand. This beautiful yellow fruit looked 
invitingly as it hung in lovely contrast, intermixed 
with the deep green foliage of the trees that bore it. 
'No fruit-bearino^ tree is more beautiful than the or- 
ange-tree at this season of the year. The soil had 
more the consistence of baked tar than any I ever 
saw. All cultivation was with the spade and hoe. 
There were no fields, only small garden-patches. 
In order to make these gardens more of a loose loani, 
they mixed in shells, ashes, and many other extra- 
neous substances. It was not unusual to sec ijarden 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. . 201 

soil held in by plank much elevated above the com- 
mon level as it had from time to time been improved 
by mixing in other substances. Here were ships and 
smaller sea craft at anchor, seeming to hesitate as to 
what was best, but occasionally sailing out and tak- 
ing the risk of capture. 



First Sebmon in the Station. 
But by and by Sunday came, which was the sec- 
ond from the close of the Conference, and I was to 
occupy the pulpit. The pulpit, did I say? Yes, the 
pulpit. Why, I had never preached in a pulpit, and 
had seen but few of them since I had been licensed 
to preach. But the bell sounded, and the people and 
the new preacher w^ere soon face to face — that is, 
as much so as the pulpit Avould allow, for it was 
rather a huge piece of architecture, unduly tall, with 
a column at each end a foot or two higher, to act as 
lamp-rest whenever there was need of lamps. These 
columns obstructed the vision in those quarters, and 
appeared to trouble me as I sat back a little restless, 
with scarcely from my eyebrows upward visible to 
my audience, and knowing that the columns would 
be above my shoulders when standing. The place 
and situation were in strange contrast with my for- 
mer experience. My preaching was strictly after 
my own style, and the sermon, as I suppose, con- 
tained nothing odd in it, as nobody laughed, cried, 
or talked during the delivery of it. Just befo.re dis- 
missing the congregation, I recommended to their 
consideration the cutting off of those ungainly and 
troublesome columns on a plane with the book-board. 



202 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

This awakened some smiles, pleasant or otherwise 
I could not at the time comprehend. It matters not 
to say what became of those columns, but all people 
do observe that such a fault in architecture is now 
corrected in all progressive places. 



Fishing and Fishers. 

As has been already observed, this was "a mon- 
strous fishy place." The fish ordinarily taken with 
the seine was the mullet, which is a fish of small size 
but well flavored. The manner of seining is on this 
w^ise: Leaving one end held in the hands of the fish- 
ing party on shore, the seine is placed aboard a skift'. 
The skiff' is then rowed oft*, dropping out the seine as 
it moves until it comes around in its circuit to shore 
again, with the other end of the seine near to the 
place of starting. The seine is held near to the sur- 
face by floats, and sinks by weights. Then comes 
the hardest labor attached to the business — drawins: 
the seine to shore. This is done by the whole party 
on shore. Two or three skiffs go round to render any 
assistance that may be needed in case of its hanging. 
Sometimes a man has to leave his skiff and dive 
under to do the disentangling; but being accustomed 
to the water, he goes under without word or hesi- 
tation. One haul is all the party ever make, for 
they always get more fish than they want. They 
select the best, and put the others back into the wa- 
ter. The party being always on the water, and al- 
most daily accustomed to such sights, do not appear 
enlivened, and to see sport in the business like Ken- 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. -03 

tuckians and Tennesseans, but simply as any other 
business to get something to eat. 

But there was another mode of lishiug practiced 
here. It was the ordinary way practiced by Ken- 
tuckians on the creeks of that State— a line, sinker, 
and bait, but no pole. A bar of lead fastened to the 
line within a foot of the hook answered for a sinker, 
and an ounce of fresh beef for a bait— a 'picket or stake 
was driven in the ground, to which the end of the 
line was fastened, and the baited end was by a whirl- 
ing motion thrown a hundred feet or more out into 
the strait. Then the lisherman only had to sit and 
w\ait and watch his line, which was never very long 
if it was a day for fish to bite, before he saw it be- 
ginning to move. The fisherman then, if awkward 
in the management of his game, sometimes got his 
hands sharply cut by the line. It was often no 
easy job, and required some skill, to successfully 
bring to shore from a distance of a hundred feet, 
holding to a small line, a fish weighing from six to 
forty pounds. The experience some had with the 
large ones made them wish that only the small ones 
would bite. The place of general fishing was a place 
of two banks; the first one broke off abruptly, and 
was about three feet above the other, which gradu- 
olly sloped to the water's edge. The fish was in the 
end of the struggle first hauled by hook and line on 
this first gradually sloping bank. If a small one,^ 
then lifted in the same way to the upper bank; but 
if a heavy one, the fisherman went down to where it 
w^as, put his hands in its gills and threw it on the 
bank above. These fish never fioundercd like Ken- 



204 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

tucky minnows, but after their great struggle in the 
water, their energy appeared to be entirely broken 
down, and they quietly yielded themselves to their 
fate. The best time for fishing was either at the 
beginning of the ebbing or flowing of the tide. The 
kind of fish generally taken w^ere red fish, fresh- 
water cat, or salt-water cat, according to the way 
the tide was moving. But the fisherman soon learns 
to draw in his tackle and go home, when a school 
of the porpoise come near. They are fishers them- 
selves, and when they move about in numerous 
shoals, making now and then drumming sounds, the 
smaller fish getting intermixed with them become 
embarrassed and are taken. It is nothing unusual 
to see the smaller fish leaping out of the water when 
embarrassed in these schools. 

There was another kind of fishing done here. 
The men who followed it were a weather-stained, 
dirty-looking class, w^ho either did not know how 
or else had no heart to aspire above a little hut and 
a skift' as their full stock of propert}^ They em- 
]»hatically obtained daily their daily bread. How 
they managed on Sunday I did not learn. Whether 
like the children of Israel they got a double supply 
for one day in each week, I know not; but one thing 
is true, they had the liberty of the waters, and the 
oyster-reefs were free. By being out early you might 
see these oyster-men unlocking their skifts and start- 
ing on their daily labor. Of course, each one in a 
skifi[' to himself, and in rowing always has his back 
toward the point of destination; yet he never looks 
to see, but makes his landing at the i)recise point he 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 205 

desires witliout ever looking once ahead. He is 
simply governed by the position and range of ob- 
jects on shore. When once landed, then begins his 
work of loading, whicli is done with long-handled 
tongs of short grapple. One part of the long handle 
is pressed against his shoulder, the other is held 
stiffly in his hands; and thus standing in his skift", 
he breaks the oysters loose from their reef and lifts 
them with the same implement into the skilF. When 
loaded, with the same precision and skill he comes 
again to shore, and immediately begins the work of 
opening the shells, which is in some respects done 
after the fashion of a Kentucky boy out with his 
little bucket gathering berries — he will now and 
then slip one into his mouth. So this oyster-man, 
who no doubt is hungry by this time, as he opens 
the shells divides between his bucket and mouth. 
But when the work is finished, which is generally 
toward the close of day, he again locks his skiff to 
shore, and starts for his little hut, where wife and 
children are waiting for his daily earnings; but he 
goes by a trading-shop and exchanges his oysters for 
family supplies such as his judgment teaches him to 
get. Here I learned to love oysters, but never took 
any stock in this kind of fishing. 



Hon. William L. Yancey. 
While here, I witnessed the return to our country 
of the Hon. Wm. L. Yancey, who had been sent early 
in the war between the States to the court of Si. 
James as an agent of the Confederate Government. 
The manner of his return fully illustrated the ex- 



200 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

tremity of the South even at that time. The ports 
were all blockaded, and it was just now and then a 
vessel could slip in or out. This gentleman exer- 
cised the precaution necessary to make it safely back 
to his native land. He came in aboard the schooner 
Stingeray on one of the stormiest evenings I ever 
saw. He came by way of Cuba, and of course prac- 
tically in disguise. He represented the British Gov- 
ernment as stoical on Southern recognition; that the 
government was exceedingly politic, and had great 
patience to wait and see; that the English people 
were not at all affected by the cry that "cotton is 
king; " that in his opinion the English Government 
would never recognize the Southern Confederacy 
until they became greatly changed in sentiment. He 
did not speak at all encouragingly of the matter. 
He appeared to be exceedingly open in all his state- 
ments in reference to the policy and intentions of 
the English Government, and left the impression 
that we were in the struggle, and must unaided and 
with but little sympathy fight our own battle. 

Wm. L.Yancey was exceedingly Southern — a man 
of strong convictions and of very decided character. 
You did not have to thump him and sound him to 
get at his principles. They stood prominently to 
view like the strongly written features of his face. 
Though a little wanting in conservatism, yet he was 
as pious in his intentions and as philosophic in 
thought as the effeminate statesman who graduall}^ 
for want of courage to defend, compromises away 
his country's liberty under the authority of statute 
law. However much people may differ, there is 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 207 

something to adiiiire in the character of such a man 
as he was. Whatever cause he espoused, he never 
uttered a word nor did an act that weakened it. 



Anchoeed in a Lake. 
Having had the liberty of so large a territory on 
the missions just previous to this station work, I 
felt a little oppressively the confinement. I was in- 
vited to visit and preach in a couple of little towns 
above, distant about thirty -five or forty miles. I con- 
cluded to go under the invitation, inasmuch as for 
some cause neither one just in those times had any 
preaching in regular order. A lake of water twenty- 
five miles in diameter lay between my station and 
those towns, and in order to reach them had to be 
crossed. This was done variously, either in small 
sailing vessels or by steam-boats. I went up to one 
of these towns on a small sailing vessel, and had a 
pleasant voyage. When I got ready to return, the 
onl}^ vessel that was at hand was the smallest steam- 
boat I ever saw, called The Dim^. I took passage 
aboard this little craft, and was soon on my return 
voyage. Every thing went well enough until we had 
got far out into the lake, when the little animal 
which I was riding was found to be pitching at a 
furious rate — up and over again, not very unlike 
some of the mustangs used to do me in the West 
when they wished to unlade before I had steered 
them into port. '' What is this, captain?" said I. 
*'A gale, sir," answered he. " What is that you have 
down there?" "Cast anchor, sir." "Why don't 
you go on and get out of the storm ? " " Can't make 



208 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

any headway, sir." "Then, why do you not turn 
round and go back? " '^It would be dangerous not 
to keep the bow to the wind and tide, sir." Here 
I hesitated, thought of Jonah, and wondered. The 
little animal^ lariated in the middle of the lake, kept 
its face full fronting the gale and tide, would rear 
up and go over every surge of the water seemingly 
as statedly as a time-moving pendulum. The cap- 
tain told me that it would be very dangerous if the 
rope that held it should break. Of course I knew 
all about the running, braying, pitching, and caper- 
ing of a mustang when the picket pulled up or the 
lariat broke. 

"Captain, how long since you were caught out 
this way?" "This is my first time, sir." "How long 
have you been navigating this water?" "Twenty- 
live years." "Do you know any captain that has 
been caught this way?" "Not exactly, sir." Just 
then I looked down the boat, and saw by its motion 
of riding the waves that it was limber, a thing I had 
never noticed in any steam-boat. Said I, rather anx- 
iously: "Captain, did you know your boat is lim- 
ber? " He looked and saw it springing and bending 
as it rode the waves, and remarked with little con- 
cern: "Steam-boats are not built like ships, stayed 
with masts and ropes, but all of them are limber." 
It was now about midday. Said I, again: "How 
long do you think this gale will last?" "I think it 
will all be over by to-morrow," said he. "Do you 
think your boat can stand it until to-morrow?" "I 
think so, if it do n't get any worse." " But if it breaks 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 209 

in two?" said I, lamentinglj. "Then we will hold 
to the pieces," said he. 

This was enough. I was the only passenger 
aboard. I retired to my berth thinking of this brave 
captain, who seemed to be as much composed as if 
no gale had struck and troubled his little craft. The 
gale continued, and all the motions of the vessel, 
until just twelve o'clock at night, when the rain be- 
gan to beat heavily and to pour down as a flood. 
It seemed that the waters of another lake had been 
raised and were pouring down again in this. Light- 
ning flashes were seen, but no note of thunder was 
heard above the general roar. The little boat on 
which we rode rose, plunged, and struggled for its 
position like a brave warrior in furious combat. In 
the pitchy darkness of the night I could not see how 
much it was bending. I was now fully impressed 
it would bear through; for if it had intended to come 
to pieces, it would have done so long ago. When 
the storm lulled and the waves became broken, it 
did appear that the little thing would shake itself 
to pieces. It acted like a thing in full muscular ex- 
ercise, without a nerve-power to give it regular mo- 
tion. There we staid until day-dawn. About nine 
o'clock in the morning, under a beautiful sky, as 
though nothing unusual had occurred, with a glad- 
some heart, and I reckon with a pleasant smile, I 
rode the little animal still alive into the port of my 
station. I conclude by saying I felt very morally 
inclined. 
14 



21-0 FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 

Mt Last Days m the Station. ■ 
From the first it was evident to my mind that the 
station work would not be pleasant to me. To go 
with a mission and yet not be able to carry it out, 
because the minds of the people were diverted to 
the war which had now commenced in great ear- 
nestness, tended in a great degree to keep me uncom- 
fortable. The war was the all-absorbing topic, and 
the signs of it were visible all around my little sta- 
tion. Blockaders were almost continuously in sight. 
The people were in dread that their little city would 
be taken. Vessels were occasionally slipping in and 
out, and sometimes one run down and captured, in 
full open view of the city. The smoke of the can- 
non and the vertical spray of the shot falling on the 
water were plainly visible, as well as the hearing 
of the booming roar. It was war, war, and the 
people's minds and hearts were fixed in it in a 
great degree to the neglect of the proper worship of 
God. 

I turned my attention partly to preaching to the 
soldiers. They listened well, and many of them were 
Christians. I enjoyed their society. They were out 
on the front, but appeared less excited on the great 
question at issue than the common people. They 
presented none of the appearance of a piece of work- 
ing machinery so much as they did the great fact 
that each one was a machine within himself, acting 
on the broad ground of the principle involved. 

I left and went to the war. This begins a new 
line of thought, because it was a new line of opera- 
tion. But now, dear mother, I know you are weary 



FIVE YEARS IN THE WEST. 211 

and must have rest. We shall have to take another 
evening to finish our report. 

But tell me what stranger that is in the other room, 
whom I could see through the window, and who ap- 
peared to be so busy writing all the time of my nar- 
ration. 

Mother: "Why, that is our short-hand reporter." 
Author: " What has he been writing so much?" 
Mother: "He has taken down your narrative for 
me." 

Author: "What do you want with it?" 
Mother: "Why, I am going to publish it." 
Author: " Why, is it so you are still prankish as 
in the days when you were my young mother and I 
your little boy at your knee? Has time not changed 
you even in this?'' 

Mother: "It has all been prearranged, for we knew 
you would tell us something we want to keep; and 
it shall be fairly done, with such revisal as may be 
needed." 



The End. 



